Twilight's Dawn
by Alceriniel
Summary: This story spans from one year before Act 2 to 2 years after Act 3. This story focuses mainly on the relationship between Anders and F!Hawke, as well as politics revolving around Kirkwall before and after the "final" battle between Orsino and Meredith.
1. Chapter 1

**Twilight's Dawn**  
A Dragon Age 2 FanFiction

**A (rather longwinded) note from the Author**

Before you set out on this story-within-a-story (and continuation thereof) there are a few things that I would like to point out before you begin.

While I am attempting to take great pains to not mention a first name for Hawke, or any physical characteristics in an attempt for the reader to best imprint their own version of the hero in the game, there are certain liberties that I did need to take in order to make the story work.

First off, there is no way that I could possibly work around the fact that the main character is a female. Second, as I have never played through the game as a Mage I have no idea of the characteristics or mannerisms of the younger twin Carver to use in the story, furthermore allowing Bethany to be the surviving sibling allows for a little sway between the main character being either a Rogue, or a Warrior class character. I _do not_ intend to have any long drawn out battle sequences at any point throughout this story so if the issue does arise the characters weapon choice and style will remain semi-fluid between the two styles by allowing the use of dual wielding a longsword and dagger as was available to both classes in the original installment of the series.

Thirdly some game choices had to be made in order for the story to progress and (eventually) reach its natural conclusion. The choices made are as follows:

**During Act 1:**

All party members were recruited; furthermore, all companion quests were also completed during this act.

Bethany was left at home during the expedition into the deep roads and was therefore taken to the Circle.

The white-lily serial killer quest was taken its first stage completed

The Wayward son quest was completed and Varian was sent to the Dalish camp

The Bone Pit quest was completed and the PC became a partner in the mining franchise

Main character raised 50 sovereigns by herself and _DID NOT_ accept Dougal's offer

The main character is (obviously) romancing Anders

Lastly, all sexual/overly risqué parts of the story have been removed as I wish to keep the rating on this story on rated T. There is an uncensored version of the story that I am hosting on my own website that you are free to read should you so choose.

That being said I hope you enjoy the story. I'm trying my best for everything to remain as canonical as entirely possible, which leads to a great deal of cross referencing on the Dragon Age Wikia, as well as double checking my strategy guide to make sure everything is error free. If there are any logic/story related errors, I do humbly request that you call me out on them so that they can be amended.

I hope you enjoy the story in its entirety, and again, if something seems _wrong_ please inform me of it.

Sincerely,  
**Katherine**

**Chapter One**

The storm was not far off on the horizon now, dark clouds rolled ever closer to the shore as the sky groaned louder in its desire to reach the shores of the wounded coast. Wind whipped at Hawke's tunic as sea spray shot above the rocky outcrop in a wave of foam and debris.

"Let's get the last of these rods in the ground." Hawke called over her shoulder. "Then we will take refuge in the caves and gather more reagents. After the storm thunders past we will load up the wagons and head out."

Avaline shook her head with a the smallest of smiles playing on her lips as she re-affixed one of the metal rods that one of the workers had planted into the sandy beach before making her way to Hawke.

"Seems a waste to only make glass when a storm comes through, explain to me again why you don't get some of your mage friends to hit these rods with a few lightning bolts?"

"Magical effects remain in the glass." she replied absently. "The last thing we need is the Templars asking around the market why raw glass is being shipped out with a glowing blue glaze already cast around it. Besides," Hawke hitched a thumb over her shoulder to the group of men setting up the last of the rods. "Gives a few men who would otherwise have to resort to thievery an honest day's work."

'_And the interesting texture of the glass grants a fairly hefty financial return.'_ she thought to herself. Varric had been most helpful in her efforts of obtaining exclusive rights to 'Kirkwall Coast Glass' an enterprise which had originally been thought of as both foolish and a complete waste of coin. Then again, most businesses didn't have a close friend who had the ear of half the merchant and smith caste of Orzammar wrapped around his finger. _That_ little detail-and the fact that the glass was unique only to Kirkwall-was what made the glass so rare and expensive.

The proceeds had gone to keep her family established, create jobs for those who were otherwise without them, and open a few political doors which would otherwise have been closed to her without enough coin to 'grease the wheels'... among other private projects.

"Looks like the last of the rods are in, I'll signal the men to push the carts inside and start hunting for deep mushrooms and elfroot throughout the caves. Do you still have those maps?" Hawke smiled and patted her side pack.

"The storm will blow past us in a few hours, tell the men they have free run of whatever other loot they find in the caves, but make sure they remember not to forge deeper into the tunnel system until an area has been cleared of anything that might cause them harm." Avaline rolled her eyes.

"As if I would allow anything else." Hawke gave her a friendly slap on the shoulder.

"And that is why I wouldn't trust anyone else with their safety, and why I send a fair portion of the refined poultices to the city guard as an extra thank you for their assistance in this venture."

"With your regular tours of both Darktown and Lowtown at night, I feel that half the city guard would happy assist you in whatever chores in the area you feel you need assistance with. I've actually started getting complaints about there not being enough action on patrols lately."

"I certainly have no idea what you are implying Avaline." Hawke shot her companion a sideways grin, "While it is certainly true I sometimes venture into the seedier parts of town to pick up certain items, vigilante work is not strictly speaking... legal."

"I would never imply you were doing anything illegal, but I think we both are aware that your increasing ventures into Darktown have absolutely nothing to do with picking up packages. But I suppose when you choose to visit your friends is your own business." Avaline turned and left before Hawke could stutter out a reply, leaving her alone to school the crimson from her face before rejoining the others inside of the caves.

**~ 2 ~**

To have called the unloading in the warehouse chaos would have been more than kind. While some of the Ferelden refugees had experience working dockside, the majority of her hired men were oblivious as to how the materials that had been gathered were to be stored, while other workers were more intent on making sure that their share of the perishable goods never left their line of sight.

The process had gotten easier over the course of the previous year at least. Hawke had developed a reputation of being more than fair in her dealings with her workers, and after the last of the glass had been stored behind locked doors, and the rest of the goods were checked for quality and then divided up amongst the men, she felt confident that the few crates she ordered delivered directly to her estate would find their way safely home to be stored in her cellar, ready for whomever needed them.

Confident that her man of business would handle the rest, Hawke signed her name on the shipping manifest and pressed her signet ring into the wax, confirming that 20 cases of Kirkwall glass would be leaving for Ferelden in two days time and would from Denerim make the long journey west to the city of Orzammar where they would be shaped and sold for outrageous prices.

"I swear, I've never seen someone so appallingly blessed by the Maker as yourself. One might be inclined to believe the heavens themselves bend before your will."

"Varric." Hawke greeted the dwarf with unrestrained affection. "Isn't it interesting how you always know where I am?" She leaned down and offered the rogue merchant an awkward hug. "If you continue in your pursuit, I will be forced to believe you harbor tender feelings for me."

"I'm afraid you are simply going to have to cry your tears elsewhere Hawke, you know Bianca would never allow me to share myself with another woman." She held a hand to her chest and gasped, bringing the other to cover her eyes.

"Oh but dear Varric, you promised our love would span the seasons! Be still my wounded heart, for I have surely been stricken a blow of death! Save me from my pain oh sweetest of poisons!" Varric couldn't help but laugh as she brought her hands to her throat and proceeded to make gurgling noises.

"If you are done with your horrible acting, perhaps you could help me out with a little problem." The dwarf motioned for her to follow him as he headed in the direction of Lowtown. "Blondie has been sulking all afternoon." Hawke raised an eyebrow at the news.

"Sulking? Why would he be sulking? Oh, maker! Please don't tell me that he and Fenris got into another row with one another. I am in no mood to go play 'patch up the hurt feelings' at the moment."

"Nothing so extreme I assure you. I think he is feeling a little put off that you didn't invite him on your little trip to the coast." He held up a hand to cut off Hawke's protest, "He's been at The Hanged Man most of the afternoon grouching at me and glaring into an empty tankard. I'm assuming that as of late he hasn't been having as many patients to keep him occupied, and the man has more energy than a box of nugs on the best of days." Varric shrugged and added on a lower note, "He kept growling that mages should be able to wander around as they please, and if the City Guard couldn't accept that a mage was there to protect and heal them should something occur, then the whole lot deserved to be bitten on the ass by a venomous spider." Hawke pinched the bridge of her nose and furrowed her brows.

"I'll speak to him, and figure out a way to get him home safely, or to the estate without being noticed if it should come to that. Is there anything else I should be aware of?" Her tone of voice made the remark into more of a plea that there wasn't anything else to add.

"Merrill stopped by the estate, poor girl forgot you were going to the coast today. She had a nice chat with your mother though; I made sure she got back to the Alienage safely; however," Varric shot her a small smile. "Your mother was kind enough to attempt to teach Merrill how to cook." For a moment Hawke thought she would faint.

"Dear maker, I'm not going to have to replace the kitchen am I?" she said weakly.

"No. Just a few pots and pans, apparently Merrill decided the water was taking much too long to boil and 'just wanted to help', your mother said she understood and didn't make a fuss, but then-" Hawke held up her hand.

"Too much for one day, I beg you, no more." Varric smiled up at her and shook his head.

"It's your own fault for making such an eclectic group of friends. Personally I feel you should just be happy that both Isabella and Fenris kept a relatively low profile. Isabelle showed up right before I left the tavern, she promised to keep an eye on Blondie for me while I was gone, and Fenris hasn't shown up at all."

"Thank the maker for small favors." Hawke grumbled as they walked down the steps toward the open air market. "Varric… was Anders really that upset…" but she couldn't continue and let the words die as the dwarf gave her a knowing smile and pushed her in the direction of the tavern.

"For all her intelligence and ability." The dwarf mumbled to himself "That girl can have some very obvious blind spots at times. Then again, Blondie is the only one who seems to be remotely aware of his feelings, and damned if I know if that is for better or worse." Rolling his shoulders Varric went back about his business.

**~ 3 ~**

"Would you stop sulking and play with me already?" The pirate leaned over the table and poked the mage on the nose. "It's so _boring_ when all you do is pout. You aren't even getting irate over my taunts and teasing. You are absolutely no fun." Anders peered at the woman over his mug.

"I'm _not_ sulking, and _you_ smell like a brewery." The pirate huffed and slapped a hand against the table.

"So you didn't get to go to the coast, why would you want to go anyway? It was positively storming out there for the better part of the afternoon, and the trek back through the mud UGH!" she threw her arms up in the air in exasperation. "You could get your foot caught in the mud, sprain your ankle, and then what good would you be to all the beggars in Darktown?" When all the mage did was look back down at his mug Isabella let out an agitated sigh before giving the young man a sly look and maneuvered herself by his side on the bench.

"Maybe you just need to take your mind off of things for a bit." She said slyly, draping an arm over his shoulder and pressing her right thigh against his left. "I would be more than happy to distract you for an hour…" she leaned close to him for a second to whisper into his ear coyly. "Or three, or even longer if you prefer." Anders was about to attempt a particularly pithy reply when a familiar voice spoke up behind him.

"I'm not interrupting am I? I would hate to disturb such an intimate moment." Anders jumped involuntarily, almost knocking Isabella backward off the bench. The pirate would have laughed at the mage's obvious discomfort if she hadn't felt slightly pissed about being nearly knocked to the ground.

"Hawke! Your back!" called Isabella gaily as the mage schooled his expression and gave the object of his uneasiness a measuring glance.

"You weren't hurt were you?" he began cautiously, "I'm well aware of the Qunari bands that travel the coast and of the spiders that live in the caves… I was worried." Hawke simply rolled her eyes and grinned.

"I'm absolutely fine, you will remember that we had the city guard patrol with us, and Avaline was also present. Besides, the Qunari that camp along the coast are far more interested in hunting game than attacking travelers, and the rogue bands retreated further up into the hills during the colder weather to be more sheltered from the sea wind." Her face contorted suddenly and she sniffed the air. "Are you drunk?"

"Might as well be." Piped up the pirate. "He has been drinking rather steadily since this afternoon. _I've_ never seen him drink that much before." She reached up to poke Anders in the back, causing him to take a half step forward. "Look-it him. He can't even keep his balance."

"I am not drunk." Snarled the mage who looked at Hawke almost guiltily. "I'm fine. I just wanted to make sure you returned safely. Now that I know you have…" he moved to walk past, but at that exact moment a boot hooked his ankle and he began to tumble forward slightly. Hawke managed to prop him up with her shoulder before wrapping an arm around his waist.

"Be that as it may, I would feel personally responsible if you somehow managed to forget where you live and end up on the wrong side of Darktown," a small smile spread across Hawke's face. "If there was a right side of it to begin with. Come on old son, before you head back to your delightful clinic, I think it would be best if you took a hot bath, you really do smell awful." She swung him around to her right side and re-wrapped her arm around his waist. "Now throw your arm over my shoulder or I'll scold you well enough to put even the oldest Revered Mother to shame." Ignoring the mages grumbles Hawke waved a small goodbye to Isabella as she gently tugged her charge out of the tavern and in the direction of Hightown.

_At least he didn't bring that thrice damned staff with him today._ She thought to herself with a hint of amusement. On a normal day she didn't think twice about running into Templars, but on a normal day she had another person standing beside her who was capable of fighting or looking intimidating… or both.

"I can walk just fine you know." Anders finally said with a hint of stubbornness. Hawke's response was simply tightening her arm around his waist.

"Maybe you can walk just fine, but you obviously can't feed yourself." During their short walk, Hawke had become uncomfortably aware of how narrow his hips were. She had always known that he had been lean, but she had never realized how bulky his clothes must actually be, if anything he was rail thin.

"Comes from living a life devoted to charity I'm afraid. I don't exactly have coin to spare on extra food."

"I seem to remember extending the same offer to you that I extended to Merrill, 'You are always welcome to share my home and my table' or did you just happen to tune me out at that particular moment? I seem to recall there being an entrance to my estate right outside your clinic door, you find it easy enough when you need potion ingredients. Speaking of which." Hawke placed a well aimed kick against the estate door, only to have Bodahn almost immediately pull it open.

"Welcome home my lady," the dwarf's eyes immediately lit up, "and Serah Anders! I'll see that an extra place is set at the table for dinner."

"Enchantment!" Came a welcoming call from the ante-chamber.

"Enchantment indeed." Glowed Hawke at the young dwarf. "Could you also see to some extra bathwater? Anders will be requiring the larger of the two washrooms, I'll take the smaller one." Sandal clapped his hands together and made his way to the back of the estate.

"I do not need-" the mage began.

"Anders!" Leandra said warmly as she hurried down the stairs. "We weren't expecting you, are you staying for dinner?" Before the mage could muster a sufficient protest the woman had grabbed his arm and led him into the dining room, coaxing him into a warm bowl of soup as she barraged him with a series of questions regarding his well being.

Content that Anders wasn't going anywhere anytime soon Hawke hurried up the stairs to change out of her traveling gear and into some less muddy attire. After Bethany's removal to the circle and the move into the Amell estate, Leandra had decided it was her duty to look after Hawke's companions and make sure everyone was always fed, and absolutely nobody had the heart to deny the woman's affection, Leandra had even managed to coax Isabelle into a sweater on one occasion stating that "You poor dear, you will catch your death of a chill in such an outfit!"

Hawke snorted at the memory before making her way back down the staircase and to her worktable, leafing through the few notes that had arrived during her short absence. _Nothing appears to be in dire straits as of today at least_. She thought to herself mirthlessly. It seemed like the only gossip thrumming through the streets these days were in direct relation to the stranded Qunari, and while Hawke was eager to get as much political power behind herself as possible, she had no real desire to be the driving force behind a mass ousting of the Arishok and _or_ his people.

Truth be told as long as they continued to spend sovereigns in the city she didn't have a problem with them at all.

Hawke was just finishing scratching a few notes into the margin of one of the missives when Anders finally made his way out of the dining room-Leandra still on his heels.

"Really dear you must have a hot bath and let us launder your clothes for you." The middle-aged woman twitted over the mage. "I already feel awful enough, eventually allowing you to go back to that clinic of yours in Darktown to sleep, honestly." She sighed and picked at the lint stuck in Ander's feathered pauldrons. "We have enough rooms here to house all of Hawke's friends; I don't see why you all would rather live in a tavern or even the Alienage for that matter."

"While I would very much love living in this estate with you my dear lady," began Anders as he picked up Leandra's hand and gave her knuckles a quick kiss. "My being in residence here would cause you nothing but trouble I assure you. At this time I am content to remain at my clinic in Darktown, trust me my dear when I say that there are plenty of thankful patrons who make sure I am fed regularly." The mage lied smoothly, "The last thing the underbelly of Kirkwall desires is for me to waste away of malnutrition."

_It's really not fair to when he uses that smile_. Hawke thought to herself as she saw a slight blush creep up her mother's cheeks and shook her head.

"Anders _will_ stay in the guestroom tonight." Hawke finally intervened, lest her mother faint in a fit of woo-ing hysterics. "After he has a long hot soak in the washroom. Sandal has already heated the water for both of our baths." She grabbed his hand and started leading him down the hallway. "I'll make sure he gets put to bed Mother."

"Oh." Leandra said breathlessly, "Oh of course, goodnight dears!" she called after them-still fanning the heat from her cheeks as they ducked away into the washroom.

"You do realize she will only get more insistent as time goes on." Hawke informed the flaxen haired mage as they walked into the stone room. "She has a soft spot for you; sometimes I think you remind her of my father." As she moved to untie the straps of her soft kid house shoes she noticed that Anders hadn't moved. "I'm not saying she wants to take physical advantage of you Anders, what is wrong with you today?" She wagged one of her slippers at him.

"Nothing really… it's just." He looked behind himself at the washtub that was sitting in the middle of a large stone cubby and wrung his fingers slightly.

"Oh." Hawke rolled her eyes. "That's where I'm bathing, I'm tossing you into the bigger bath." She stood and flung back a curtain and pointed to a stone tub. "The water is better heated here, and the tub is big enough for you to soak in for awhile. I'm taking the smaller one with the hip bath." When Anders didn't look any less nervous she finally snapped. "For mercy's sake Anders, I am well aware you are not some innocent virgin, and I promise I won't peek in on you."

With a disgusted snort she stomped into the smaller cubby and jerked the privacy curtain closed behind her. Leaving Anders to his own thoughts and hygiene.

**~ 4 ~**

It was a nice washroom, and he hadn't exactly had warm water to bathe in since he left Vigil's Keep four years ago, so instead of looking a gift horse in the mouth, the mage removed his robes and slid into the warm water and began to wash the grime and grit that had accumulated on his skin.

If there was one thing that he did not entirely mind about the tower (and oh how it burned him to even think it), he never had to worry about being able to take a hot bath or having clean clothes, if the mages were going to be prisoners they were at least well looked-after prisoners.

_A little too well looked after_. He thought with a growl and slapped a washcloth into the water, feeling a dark cloud welling in the back of his mind. _Watching, always watching, waiting for a single misstep, a single reason to bring all their might down upon an innocent who had done nothing to deserve a punishment other than be born what they were._

_Stop it. STOP IT! _Anders pressed his hands to either side of his head, covering his ears and attempting to force down the train of thought. Luckily enough he succeeded, the dark thoughts receding into the back of his mind, but he could always feel them there… lurking, waiting for a break in his resolve so that they could come rushing forward and overtake him, letting Vengeance exact his very special brand of justice upon the world.

He reached back behind his head and tugged the leather thong that restrained his hair loose and proceeded to scrub himself completely clean. If he was going to be blindsided into staying at the estate, he was not going to be responsible for ruining a nice set of linens.

_Thank Andraste for small cantrips that keep lice at bay._ He thought to himself as he finished his scrubbing and crawled his way out of the tub. _Once those little buggers set in, you practically have to burn your skull with a fireball to remove them completely._

When he noticed that his actual clothes had been replaced by a long soft house robe he actually felt a little insulted. _They don't have to keep my clothes hostage._ He thought to himself irritably tying the silk belt around his middle and frowning at himself.

_Hard to remember to eat when a spirit is sustaining your body past the breaking point. _He really hadn't noticed that he had lost so much weight. His muscles had dwindled to far past lean, his arms, once-"thicker than his head" the Warden Commander had once jested-had become almost spindly. He couldn't remember the last time he was this thin since he had first hit puberty and couldn't scarf down food fast enough to catch up with his growing height.

Sighing, and suddenly feeling much older than he had any right to, he rubbed his hands over his face and began to make his way to the guest bedroom when a movement from the second washroom caught his eye. Before he even realized he had moved to the edge of the curtain his breath hitched in his throat and he couldn't help but stare.

He couldn't see anything that he hadn't seen before, she was submerged in the hip-bath and the soap filled water obscured the body that lay tauntingly beneath, but it was what she was doing that captivated his attention.

It was a simple thing really; Hawke was merely raising an arm up out of the water and scrubbing away grime and mud with a small pumice stone before lightly brushing a washcloth over the smooth surface of her skin. But only she could make it appear as though it were a part of some grand and elegant ritual.

It was all he could do to tear his eyes away. She looked almost sacred in that small hip bath, humming a soft tune to herself as she made a such simple act appear to be something both artistic and beautifully female.

Hawke had an uncanny ability for such things, and he was more than aware that he was not the only person who noticed her. Her very presence had an eerie ability to not only intimidate, but to also put those who were troubled in a state of peace. It was what made her so skilled at diplomacy-well, that and her quick-witted tongue-she could silence even the steeliest Templar with a single glare, or gently coax an unruly child into drinking the foulest smelling tonic by mumbling reassuring nothings.

But she was more than just clever, she was beautiful, she was dangerous.

And Maker help him, he was in love with her.

He tried his hardest to resist the way she pulled at him. He had even tried to distance himself from her by instigating an argument over something trivial until she-in a fit of rage or disgust-finally stormed out of the clinic and refused to speak with him for over a week, but he eventually found himself back at the estate, apologies pouring from his lips like a treacherous poison, begging her to forgive him, which she did with a chuckle and a hug that sparked a warmth that spread further than his cheeks.

He could feel Justice's resentment building in the back of his mind, that other self rising up to tell him that this was not right. He had made his choice to become an abomination, and to attach himself to this young innocent would be nothing short of evil.

He wasn't… good. At least not anymore.

He knew on some level that she felt something for him as well (she had eluded to as much in conversation on more than one occasion), and in the hope that the Maker would listen to the prayers of an abomination he had sworn all manner of penances if he would turn his gaze upon the misguided young woman and sway her heart elsewhere. As much as he hated the former slave, he would have gladly held a celebration if Hawke had decided to return Fenris' advances, if only in joy of her being safely beyond his reach.

He had done everything he could to deter her, made every attempt he could to force her to turn away from him. He was terrified to even have her think of him as a friend. He had ranted and explained that even barring the fact that he was an abomination; she could never be at peace with him in her life. She was finally able to build something for herself here in Kirkwall, could she so easily brush her mother's well being aside?

"_It is not a life that I am entirely unfamiliar with. Do not forget ser mage, that my father was also an apostate during his entire presence throughout my life. If that is the card you wish to play with me, I'm afraid you will find that my personal experience has dealt me naught but trumps." _

That point having failed him he had returned to his main point and raved about the fact that he was currently possessed by a spirit who had been corrupted by the very own hatred that he had borne inside of his own heart. She had seen him unleash that primal fury that fateful night at the Chantry. How could she justify willingly putting herself at risk with him when he was so appallingly volatile?

"_I didn't see an abomination that night. I saw a man who was pushed beyond grief, beyond reason. Were it Bethany who turned around and faced me with her forehead stamped with that accursed sun, I assume that my very own flesh would have split open in an effort to release my rage."_

Such was her way. No matter what argument he placed at her feet she had this annoyingly brilliant ability to sidestep the actual question and quietly mount a counter attack in her own defense. Her ability to formulate a coherent reason past the depth of her own unreason had grudgingly earned her Justice's own special blend of respect and loathing.

That little fact scared him most of all.

She had no sense of self preservation, no… _sense_, and every day that she remained in his life he felt his resolve slowly crumble. Every laugh, every hug, every soft brush of her fingers against his hand, they all stroked a fire in him that he had thought had long since been stamped out.

He wanted to touch her, taste her, and entwine himself with her so tightly that one entity could not be distinguished from another. He wanted…

To get out of this hallway very quickly.

He had been standing in his reverie for such an extended period of time that he had forgotten that Hawke would eventually finish her bath. Closing his eyes and walking out the washroom door he made his way to the guest bedroom and slid underneath the covers.

Sleep did not find him very easily; however, his mind kept wandering back to that single slim arm rising out of the bathwater, droplets of water falling from her fingertips and causing ripples in the bathwater, and ten little words swam through his head, chipping away at his heart and mind.

Ten little words that kept him from sleep, words which kept him breathing, _hoping_, fearing. Words that tortured and tore at his soul.

"_My life is my own Anders, as are my decisions." _


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter Two**_

Morning broke; as always, to the soft and slightly annoying coo of pigeons outside the balcony. Hawke groaned and threw an arm over her face. "Less sun." she muttered to herself. "Less sun and a little more blissful darkness."

She managed to keep her eyes closed for a few more minutes before the everyday throb of commotion rudely snatched away the lingering fog of the dreaming world from her. _Shoppers be damned._ She thought to herself irritably as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, and rubbed at her eyes in irritation.

Anders would have already left the estate; he was never one to stay for breakfast, or longer than absolutely necessary for that matter. Sometimes she wasn't sure if he either loathed her company or was simply terrified of her.

Looking down at her large-and otherwise unoccupied-bed she sighed and began to shrug into her common clothes before settling into a working breakfast at her desk. Bodahn cheerfully brought her a steaming mug of coffee and a small plate of eggs and toast along with whatever missives had already arrived during the short period of time had passed since the sun had risen over the horizon. She smiled sleepily at the dwarf and inquired as to his morning before turning her attention to the day's work ahead.

The post was… unsettling.

For every message that was interested in the Amell Clan's financial or political backing there were two or more messages detailing rumors of unrest in dealing with the Qunari bandits who had taken refuge in or around the Wounded Coast. So far the bands had done little more than attack a few merchants heading northeast toward Wildervale.

In a way it made sense. Rouge Qunari would be more interested in foodstuffs than in any actual monetary gain, and any trade heading overland in the direction of a smaller town would be comprised mostly of regular supplies as opposed to fancy trinkets. Those particular attacks-while annoying to a few unlucky merchants-weren't worth the notice of more than the city guard, and the attacks were not only sporadic but against different trading clans, in the end even the merchants weren't losing more than a few dozen sovereigns at most.

But the attacks had begun to stir an outcry among the commons that the Qunari were not to be trusted. "Who is to say," stated one letter, "That the Qunari who sit in our very docks are not the ones orchestrating these attacks themselves? They seldom leave the safety of their little sanctuary, and never to spend coin at the markets in Lowtown. So where do they get their supplies?"

Hawke knew damn well where they were getting their supplies: dirt cheap and in Darktown where nobody asked questions. It didn't take two coppers worth of sense to know that the sewer systems were frequented by less than reputable travelers to get from one area to another throughout the city. Besides the Lowtown and Hightown markets had refused service to the Qunari ever since they had landed in Kirkwall a year ago.

Hawke growled and pinched the bridge of her nose in an effort to stave off an impending headache. She couldn't be the one to strike the first blow against the Qunari, no matter how loudly the plebs bleated about their safety. This wasn't like bringing down gangs and thugs in the city, or even highwaymen along the patrol routes. What the people of Kirkwall didn't seem to understand is how unjustly ousting the Qunari from the city-or worse, slaughtering them outright-could bring down the wrath of Par Vollen _and_ Seheron onto their heads.

She could see the consequences of such actions rolling out in her mind like a blood red carpet. The Qunari would use the offense of murdering their comrades as an excuse to land on the outskirts of Antiva and bypassing the Tevinter Emperium entirely, and begin a slow march across the Arlathan forest and finally reach the Free Marshes. While Kirkwall fought invaders from the north, the Qunari navy would easily have time to sweep through the channels of the Waking Sea to the south, cutting off supplies and leaving the city to starve.

The Qunari would use Kirkwall and the outlaying lands as a rallying point to stage the fatal blow to a land that was still attempting to recover from the last blight, and when Ferelden was finally toppled, the Qunari would push north once again attempting to overtake the Tevinter Emperium the exact same way they overthrew Kirkwall.

Methodical. No-nonsense. If she were of a mind to lead armies against a larger opponent with an unlimited amount of time in order to do so Hawke might have employed a fairly similar tactic herself.

The Amell family was probably one of a handful of noble houses who supported the Viscount's decision to _do nothing_. Sometimes the safest tactic was a stalling one, and even Hawke wasn't sure if what she envisioned in her mind was the actual over-arching plan that the Qunari had up there sleeve-or if there was even a plan at all.

"Maker, bless me with the clarity of mind to see what others might not." She whispered to herself as she pushed the missives into her waste-bin and went onto the more lucrative business of properly investing her fortune. "Or the wisdom to know when to flee."

**~2~**

Deciding that perhaps the nobles in Orzammar might have the right idea in deciding not to harbor friendships lasting over a quarter of a month; the dwarf sighed as he slapped a purse into the hand of the Carta messenger and glared at the young man's back as he hastily retreated from the suite of rooms.

Making sure these puppies kept their heads above water and off the chopping block was becoming a hefty drain on his monetary reserve. With Daisy gallivanting through Lowtown's back alleys at night; Blondie running his open-door-house-of-sparkle-finger-healing; and Monsieur Broody squatting in a Hightown manor and not taking any pains to hide his presence; Varric was literally pulling every conceivable string he could throughout his network to keep the apostates off the Templar radar, and Fenris out of prison. He had more than enough money to keep the lot of them out of trouble for as long as he needed to do so, but denying the fact that he hated parting with coin would be the same as denying his heritage. Beardlessness be damned, he was a dwarf after all.

Toying with the mug on his dining table he looked over the papers that littered its surface. Ever since Hawke's elevation to nobility the woman had proved to be an amazingly cunning diplomat, making choices that not only furthered herself monetarily, but steadily increasing her political standing throughout all of Kirkwall and by extension-his as well.

And influence wasn't excluded to Kirkwall either; Hawke had no reservations about forging trade agreements or lending financial assistance to those outside the borders and outskirts of the city itself. One of her first decisions when she had enough sovereigns to spare involved sending a 'relief fund' to the town of Tantervale along the Minanter River when a fire destroyed many of the town's buildings during the planting season. With the harvest so many months away and no additional income many people were left with no place to live. Hawke somehow managed to scrape together 150 Sovereigns of her own coin and petitioned the Viscount to also donate a 1/3 of her own investment for the betterment of the lives of their neighbors.

She pleaded the case of these poor farmers; those who sweated and broke their backs for so scant a repayment of feeding not only the Viscount's son, but also every mouth that resided within the borders of the city itself. If the city could not afford to accumulate the 50 Sovereigns with no hope of return, then Hawke would set her estate down as collateral for a loan from the city treasury itself in order to raise the "Absolute minimum amount required to make sure these fine people are given their just due for their contribution to not only the Free Marshes but to the whole of Thedas itself."

The Viscount, shamed at Hawke's blatant act of charity and selfishness expressed that he would see that the 50 sovereigns would be raised, and the nobility-driven beyond reason by the young upstart-also donated money to fund the rebuilding of the homes of their "beloved neighbors". By the time the gold had been gathered, 250 sovereigns were sent to the fine people of Tantervale who Varric assumed would outright die of shock upon its sudden arrival.

The farmers had their homes built: as well as a new tavern, inn, warehouse, and open air market. Hawke even visited the town to offer her congratulations, and the assistance of 20 Ferelden refugees who had experience with both farming and carpentry to "Assure that no family would be left without a roof or a warm bed longer than absolutely necessary". The people were so pleased with the development that those 20 refugees were now permanent residents of Tantervale, and after a little negation, 5 more refugees later moved to the town to began a city watch in order to keep the people safe.

The nobility were delighted twofold: First, they were given an opportunity to openly display their 'generosity' and gain favor with the commoners of Kirkwall, Two: there were 25 fewer Ferelden refugees living within the city's limits.

But Hawke had gained more than anyone. People now saw in her not only someone who could lead the nobles down the right path, but also someone who was capable of great generosity and charity. She was a leader who would ask no more of anyone than she was willingly capable to give herself, and would do so both justly and fairly.

She had an ear for politics and a keen eye for trade; and Varric, who thought of himself as more than capable in all diplomatic spheres found it immeasurably beneficial to work by her side for the profit if not out of simple loyalty.

So his table was littered with letters and notes in Hawke's tight and neatly printed handwriting regarding a range of requests and suggestions from where to place sovereigns in the interest of financial returns, to whose purse to fill in order to get more and more able-bodied men and women decent jobs that would suit their unique sets of skills and place their favor comfortably into her own back pocket.

If Varric didn't know any better, he would assume she was attempting to rule the entirety Free Marshes.

Chuckling at the irony of desiring to rule a land that was nothing more than a collection of city states that resented having its residents being all lumped together under the generic title of "Marchers" he pulled a leaf of parchment from a single stack and began musing how he could best make its contents a reality.

**~3~**

It was playtime.

As far as she could gather, Leandra had left the estate on a shopping expedition, so no one would stand between herself and a little fun. While Isabela couldn't deny she honestly did like the middle-aged woman, she had a tendency to remind her of her very own mother-or what she could remember of her during the five years of her life when the woman was alive. It was nice at times, but also irritating, and the woman had a tendency to actually make her feel_ guilty_ on occasion… like with the sweater incident.

Grinning from ear to ear, Isabela walked into the estate without knocking and gave the mind-addled dwarf a little wink before taking the stairs two at a time and bursting into Hawke's room with a flourish.

"It's too beautiful a day to waste it on paperwork!" She declared as she grabbed Hawke by the arm and pulled the surprised woman to her feet. "Get dressed. We are going out!" Hawke shook off the other woman's arm and let out a sigh, rubbing her temples with her ink smudged fingers.

"Out where?" The woman asked wearily. Isabela and 'fun' generally led to less than reputable consequences that ended up involving either a fist or a sword… or both.

"I heard some poor old man at the tavern grumbling about being attacked on his way into Kirkwall by a small entourage of bandits at the base of Sundermount. I thought you would enjoy killing them with me. I suppose we could take Fenris along with us as well if you wish, Merrill wasn't home when I came knocking earlier so I assume she is wandering around in some restricted area Maker-only-knows-where."

The contemplating look on Hawke's face almost caused the pirate to start grinding her teeth. _Nobody_ was _ever_ any fun at all anymore. Everyone was busy with their own little projects and never wanted to go out and just kill people without a reasonable explanation for doing so.

Well, that's not entirely true. Fenris would happily kill mages if given the opportunity, but it wasn't always easy to find mages running around Kirkwall who wouldn't turn into those disgusting blobs of flesh once provoked due to the whole demon summoning thing. But surely not everyone who came in contact with a demon or made a deal with one became those flesh-blob-tumored-icks, Anders was still quite fetching, and he supposedly had two of the things rolling around in his head. Merrill wasn't too hard on the eyes either now that she thought about it-

"I actually think that would be a fine idea, let me just grab my gear and we'll head out." Hawke walked over to her armor stand and began unbuckling the straps holding the breastplate to the mannequin. "If you are in a hurry could you run and pick up Fenris? I have to get changed and address a few of these letters before we leave."

"No problem." Grinned the pirate, if Isabela had a tail, it would currently be wagging.

**~4~**

The sun was setting… lovely, just… _lovely_.

Fenris re-adjusted Hawke's arm around his shoulder so the woman could regain her balance for the millionth time, as he contemplated the stupidity of agreeing to come on this disastrous adventure in the first place. The actual fighting went rather well, it was the endless trekking through brush and bramble that had slowly whittled down the elf's patience. It wouldn't have been so bad-he assumed-if Hawke hadn't tripped over a damned tree root resulting in him having to half-drag, half-carry her all the back to Kirkwall.

Isabela's quips weren't making the journey back any more bearable, and the actual destination at the end of this slow and irritating voyage made him want to grind his teeth together. As it stood, the only person who could properly mend the woman's ankle was the abomination whose existence was an affront to his very nature.

_Damn him_. Fenris thought to himself as he carefully guided Hawke along the path back to Kirkwall. He despised the man on principal, but the way he looked at Hawke when he thought no one was watching sickened him. How dare he stare so longingly at a woman when he had willingly given up his very soul to become something less than human? The assumption that he could be with _anyone_-let alone one of the few decent people on this wretched continent-was blasphemous at best.

He glanced sideways at Hawke, the woman who worked tirelessly in conjunction with Avaline and Varric to ensure that he lived as peacefully as possible in the Hightown mansion he called home. She took risks-both to her position, as well as to her own personal safety-to make sure he could enjoy what little respite and rest he could claim for himself, encouraged him to try to build a life and nurse burgeoning friendships in order to carve a small bit of happiness out of his otherwise wretched existence.

While he knew the effort would prove fruitless nonetheless, he was touched by her care and concern, with the exception of the Fog Warriors he had met in Seheron, she was the driving force behind the only kindness and gentle care he could remember. Despite it causing him feeling smothered at times, there was something nice about having others stop by simply to chat or check in on him to make sure he was safe and fed.

"Stop trying to put your weight on it." He snapped as Hawke sucked in a sudden breath. "You are only going to make it worse the more you try to walk on it." The woman glared at him as he kept his eyes pointed towards the city walls and ignored the curl of her fingers around his arm.

_You damn fool._ He thought to himself, stroking his irritation further. _The woman is injured and you are snapping at her as if she were an insolent child picking at a scab._

"Just be careful." He amended. "Magic can do amazing things, but it can't repair destroyed tendons and muscles instantly." Hawke snorted and replied.

"Be careful Fenris, you came dangerously close to complementing mages." She looked up at him, eyes shining, "I should injure myself more often then. Perhaps if Anders were forced to heal me on a regular basis you two could eventually develop a grudging respect for one another."

_Serves me right for trying to be accommodating. _Thought the elf dryly, refusing to respond to Hawke's statement. The idea of harboring any type of respect for the abomination was creating a sour twist in his gut. Fenris simply sighed and continued the trek back to the city, arm wrapped protectively around Hawke's slender waist. _If he ever so much as touches her,_ The elf thought darkly, _I'll tear his wretched heart out._

By the time the small party had finally reached the gates of Kirkwall Hawke's face had become relatively pale and covered in a slight sheen of perspiration. Fenris had finally roared at her stubbornness and proceeded to throw the young woman onto his back-despite her protests and shrieks-and carried her the remainder of the way to the city gates, he had to remind her on several occasions that if she were in fact a 'Fully capable adult' then this entire business of him having to carry her would have been absolutely unnecessary.

If she hadn't had to cling her arms around his neck in order to keep her swaying balance she probably would have started clawing the hair out of his skull. He teased her several times upon reaching the sewers that a lady of nobility and stature shouldn't swear so profusely, and because her face was so close to his ear he really could make out every insult she mumbled under her breath. Isabela, who had been watching the entire spectacle in silent amusement since its original inception voiced her observation that if Hawke continued puffing up in her fury she was going to be mistaken for a hissing stray cat.

The woman was practically shaking with rage by the time they climbed the ladder into Darktown, but Fenris knew he would eventually be forgiven once she realized that she had been so distracted with her annoyance that she had forgotten about her injured ankle enough to breathe regularly again.

Upon reaching the clinic Isabela walked off into the back room to locate the apostate healer while Fenris finally set his charge down on a small cot and offered her a mocking bow. Hawke simply offered the elf a fleeting glare before looking irritably away, arms crossed and eyes furrowed in annoyance. The elf simply laughed inwardly at the child-like display and kneeled down to untie her boot for her; resting the heel of the boot against his knee he began to unwind the laces.

"I may be uncoordinated Fenris but I do believe I still have the ability to remove my own boot." She said with a slight hiss, eyes still burning into him. The elf smiled and looked up into her eyes and casually kissed the kneepad of her armor, grinning inwardly as a slight blush began to creep across her cheeks.

"Be that as it may m'lady, I would rather remove the boot myself. Pulling your ankle over your knee might cause you further injury, and I think you have had more than enough pain for the day." When her glare finally softened into something resembling a curious smile, the elf continued to untie the laces all the way to the very base of the boot, tugging the leather open so he would be able to lift her foot out of the boot itself without her having to bend her ankle.

When he had finally freed her foot he fervently wished he had waited for Anders to arrive and do it himself, beneath her stocking netting the skin was stretched and blotched an ugly purple and red from bruising. She winced as he slowly lifted her foot from the boot and didn't cry out as the elf gently touched the tender skin, attempting to ascertain if the ankle had been broken the entire time after all. The entire thing had managed to swell to twice its original size.

"It's not broken Fenris." Hawke replied faintly, smiling down at him. "I can still wiggle my toes, see?" He _could_ see, but he could also notice that as she did so sweat began to re-accumulate on her brow, if she was aware, she simply ignored it, leaning forward to pat him on the shoulder. "I appreciate your concern, but I have the best medical care available in Kirkwall, everything will be mended soon enough." She said quietly, patting the vacant half of the cot for him to sit.

He had to admire her nerve, he admitted to himself grudgingly as he took the seat beside her, sitting in companionable silence as they waited for the abomination to make his entrance. He watched her sitting with her fingers clasped in on her lap, smiling at a woman holding a young child, bouncing the urchin on one knee. Her face was covered in dust, and her hair was lank with the grit of travel and sweat, but he suddenly became awkwardly aware that she had never looked lovelier to him than in that precise moment. She sat with her back straight and her shoulders pulled slightly back, if he hadn't seen her face contort with pain during their journey he would have assumed there was nothing wrong with her at all. He was so mesmerized by her that when he realized she had been speaking to him he had to ask her to repeat herself.

She sighed and hooked a loose piece of hair behind her ear before smiling at him.

"I simply asked how you can look at all the good he does for these people and still think of him as an abomination."

"He taints them with his magic, a true doctor heals with science and intelligence, wiggling one's fingers over a wound does not make one skilled at anything, it is nothing more than a shortcut that a mage can use to lull others into a false sense of security and trust. Who is to say that one day he won't use these people's faith in him against them?"

"If you truly believed that Fenris, you would never have brought me here in the first place." Hawke countered smoothly, looking the elf in the eyes before continuing. "After he attends to my ankle, will I myself become 'tainted'? Will you see me as less of a person because I allowed a mage to tend to my wounds?" before he could reply she held up a hand to stop him. "I think it is best you do not answer my question. But I will say this: if you honestly believe Anders would harm the people that he takes into his care then you have let your distrust and hate cloud your vision past reason, and if you think he would use his position to harm others then you have clearly not been paying attention."

"I have paid attention _lady_, closer attention than I wish to the atrocities of mages in my time. They all eventually show their true nature in the end, through the use of blood magic and by cruelty against their own species. All mages lust for power, all mages wish to rule. I hope that you can live with your idyllic notions and in ignorance for as long as possible, but I fear one day you will find that the fact always remains the truth."

She looked away from him then and back at the woman and child. Hawke never rebuked him for his thoughts, despite her personal philosophies and beliefs. She only ever asked questions of him. But her silence said more to him than words. She would not ever openly challenge what he believed, but she would never agree with him either, and that respectful silence managed to shame or deeply wound him at times.

Hawke sought not to pick apart his brain, but to further understand the man on a personal level. No matter how heated his arguments against the atrocities of magic became she would always listen with her fullest attention and offer him no dispute. The only way she would ever countermand his rants were when he brought Anders or Merrill into the argument, at which point she would respectfully plant her feet and become a politely unyielding wall.

"_I will make no windows into men's souls Fenris, your beliefs are your own, and I will never consciously attempt to change or alter them. But make no mistake, I will defend the ones that I care for and an attack upon those I hold close is an attack upon myself. If you ever attempt to harm someone that I care for you can assume my love for you has reached its end, and I promise you if such a point is ever reached, Danarius will seem merciful to you by comparison." _

It was the closest she had ever come to admitting that she could willingly kill him. Hawke would never harm him for stating his opinion, but if he were ever to be the active agent in an attempt upon the lives of anyone she cared about, she would meet him on the battlefield and would do everything in her power to slay him to keep those she loved safe, just as she would do if anyone ever made a similar attempt on him.

What could have been interpreted as a threat was also simple message of understanding that struck him on a deeper level. If he were to ever make an attempt on the life of someone who would go out of his or her way to protect him over nothing more than prejudice he would essentially become that which he hated and revolted against in the first place. She would kill him not only to protect those she loved, but also to protect him from damning himself.

Those words she had spoken to him with such uncompromising conviction had managed to do nothing more than solidify his loyalty to her. Despite the cost to her emotionally, she would protect not only his physical well-being, but also his soul. She would rather see him dead and whole rather than living out his days in self revulsion, because even he knew that killing the abomination would make him little better than the magisters in the end.

He was about to speak when the mage finally walked out of the back of the clinic, Isabela at his heels and looking a little sick.

"I swear, if you ever drag me into playing the nurse during a delivery again I will clobber you over the head with that damned staff of yours. People aren't supposed to stretch like that down there."

"A woman was in labor, and you were in a hurry. It was an entirely acceptable compromise." Replied the mage, cleaning his hands with a washcloth and basking in one of the few moments he had been able to make the pirate uncomfortable. "Besides, I think it is important you fully understand the consequences of your own actions. That could be you in there one day."

"He is going to yell at me." Hawke sighed looking over her shoulder at the quibbling pair. "When he sees my ankle he is going to yell at me for being foolish and getting myself hurt."

"You make it sound like my tirade at you meant absolutely nothing." Fenris replied dryly.

"I'm used to _you_ yelling. Anders generally just gives me this 'I'm not mad at you but I'm extremely disappointed' look just like my father used to do when I was young. It's infinitely worse. But this time I think he might actually yell."

"Perhaps it will remind you to look where you are putting your feet in the future. I don't think I've completely forgiven you for the entire ordeal of having to both drag and carry you all the way back from Sundermount." The elf stood and stretched, making his way towards the door.

"You're leaving?" Hawke asked incredulously.

"You got back safe, I'm sure you can get home from here. If you don't mind I'll take the cellar entrance back to Hightown, I've some business to attend to before I officially retire for the night." Hawke smiled and made her goodbyes as he left, turning her attention to the mage rapidly approaching her.

Fenris had no business to attend to. Strong as his resolve was, he just didn't think he had the strength to watch the abomination place his hands upon her.

**~5~**

"Maker's breath woman, what did you do to yourself?" Anders exclaimed once he caught sight of Hawke's ankle.

"She tripped." Chimed in Isabela, "Quite spectacularly I might add. She slid several feet through the underbrush and into a prickle-bush before she finally came to a complete stop. Good thing she was wearing armor, she might have bled to death before we were able to get her back to Kirkwall."

"It was nothing so fantastic; I simply tripped over a tree root that was _hidden_ in the underbrush. I fell on my face, not down the mountain." Hawke glared at the other woman as Anders bent down to examine her ankle.

Anders gently held Hawke's calve as he traced a glowing finger over the angry looking skin as the two women bickered with one another.

"It's not broken-you owe your boot a heartfelt thank you for that-but the muscles are most certainly wrenched. I can fix the damage, but you will still be sore for a few days, and the bruising won't go away for awhile either. I'll take you in the back and we can get started."

Hawke made a move to stand, but Anders quickly swept one arm under her legs and the other behind her shoulders, lifting her up off of the cot and carrying her into the back of the clinic.

"Andraste's flaming sword, since when was I deemed completely incapable of moving between one point and another?"

"Since you proved your inability to walk." Replied Anders merrily. For a short second, he honestly thought she was going to club him over the head. "I don't want you to overtax your ankle more than necessary, once I've healed it I'll let you walk around a little with the help of one of my old staffs."

The sound that escaped her reminded him of a boiling teakettle.

"I'll see you tomorrow Hawke!" Called Isabella merrily, "Be a good patient!"

"Isabela!" Cried Hawke, eyes widening in betrayal. "If you leave he is going to scold me for hours!"

"I most certainly am." Anders muttered as Hawke's jaw convulsed between opening and closing as she looked between her two friends.

"Sorry love, it's my own personal philosophy to not look for more trouble than absolutely necessary, besides." She grinned. "I've had quite enough of the back rooms at this clinic for one day." Waving her goodbyes the pirate queen danced her way out the clinic door, leaving Anders to carry Hawke into the back room alone.

Sitting Hawke down on the small cot, Anders slowly took her ankle in his hands and began to massage the bruised flesh. The pain died almost instantly, replaced by a strange tingling alternation between both warm and cold that crept from her ankle and up her calf. She watched him closely; his mind focused entirely upon the healing that was taking place.

His eyes never left her ankle, but his hands-glowing a gentle pulsating blue-moved in a circular motion. She could almost feel the muscles re-settling in their original positions, and idly wondered how anyone could ever condemn the man kneeling before her as anything other than a gift from the Maker himself. She watched his hands travel along her leg, relishing the touch of his fingers brushing against her skin.

"Anders…" she began as he finished, pulling a strip of linen out to bind the bruised ankle. "When did you first learn how to heal?" The mage smiled as he tugged the white strip of bandaging securely.

"I grew up on a farm on the southern end of the Anderfels. One day I was playing in the barn, and I saw our family's mouser trapped under some of the farm equipment, some of it hadn't been stored properly and fell on top of him." Anders sat back on his heels and took the remaining bandaging back to its cupboard. "I moved the equipment off of him and discovered he had broken his back leg, so I picked him up and looked over him for a moment and then…" Anders leaned against the wall and smiled half-heartedly. "I started crying. The poor thing was in so much pain, and it was almost as though I could feel it myself. I knew my father would just kill the cat if he couldn't hunt mice anymore, and I liked the little bugger. So I held him to my chest and cried, and wished with everything in me that I could help him, and then." Anders shrugged. "He started tugging and pushing at me, and finally wiggled out of my arms, when he hopped down he was walking again, albeit gingerly. It was the first bit of magic I had ever done, and all for a cat." He let out a quick laugh and shook his head. "I always wondered what happened to Asclepius."

"Asclepius?" Hawke asked, raising an eyebrow. Anders simply shrugged.

"My mother named him if I remember correctly. He just showed up on the farm one day and took up residence in the barn. That cat followed me around right up until I was taken by the circle, bit one of the Templars when he was trying to haul me out of the house." The mage smiled at the memory. "I miss him sometimes; I made my mother swear she would look after him once I was gone."

"So your first experience with magic was healing a cat? Somehow that scenario doesn't surprise me."

"No… I suppose it shouldn't." Anders smiled and held his hand out to her to test the injured ankle.

"Thank you Anders, it feels much better now... but still a mite bit tender."

"That's to be expected, I have a salve you can put on your ankle to help with the swelling and pain, but you will still need to be very careful over the next few days to make sure you don't re-injure it."

"Don't worry; I won't let Isabela talk me into gallivanting through the countryside while my ankle is still injured." Hawke paused for a second and looked up at the mage. "May I ask you another question?" the mage simply shrugged, his attention on her ankle. "Has anyone ever told you how beautiful your hands are?"

"My… what?" He took a step back from her as a plethora of expressions swept across his face, confusion being chief among them.

"Your hands. I don't know what exactly it is about them, but I noticed while you were holding my ankle. They really are beautiful." She took a shaky step forward and smiled. "May I touch them?"

Hawke almost regretted the simple request. Anders was staring resolutely at the ground beside her ankle, refusing to make eye contact with her. His face was torn somewhere between what looked like pain and revulsion, and for the life of her she couldn't understand why.

When he finally raised his arm, fingers outstretched and palm facing upward she almost didn't cup his hand in hers, but she had a strange sensation that despite the discomfort of having her touch him, refusing to take his hand now would only hurt him more.

He didn't look at her as she examined his hand; he shivered slightly as she traced a fingernail along the lines of his palm and brushed her thumb over the calluses that had developed from years of fiercely gripping a wooden staff or digging in a garden, but it was warm, and it was strong. She raised his hand up to her face and as she pressed his palm against her cheek he finally managed to look her in the eyes.

"You are so warm Anders." She said softly, closing her eyes slightly as she rubbed her cheek against his hand. "And your hands are so gentle. I think if everyone was born with a specific purpose in this life then yours was to heal. I think that's why your hands are so beautiful, they do so much to better the world, and they practically glow with the love of the Maker."

He said nothing as she released his hand he just shifted uncomfortably and looked in the direction of the doorway.

"I'll… see if I can find you a staff so you can make your way home." He finally replied, leaving her to sit on the cot and wonder how she could have been so insufferably thick-headed. Of course he didn't want her to touch him; he didn't enjoy having her around for any extended period of time. Her eyes burned when she remembered his face as he lifted his hand for her inspection and she forced herself to take a deep breath to re-steady herself.

When he returned he escorted her to the cellar in silence, and finally up the stairs to the estate, she wasn't going to attempt to cajole him into staying for dinner or taking a shower, she had already made him uncomfortable enough for one night. But before he closed the door to the cellar the words finally burst from her.

"I'm sorry about your hands I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable…" She started, then mentally kicked herself and began again. "I shouldn't have asked, it was rude, and it certainly wasn't… appropriate." She finished lamely.

Anders stepped forward slowly reached out and took her hand in his.

"It didn't upset me Hawke. It just caught me off guard." He smiled softly at her. "I'm used to people looking at my hands and seeing an instrument of both death and blood, not a tool of salvation." He squeezed her hand softly. "What you said… It meant a lot, really it did. You didn't hurt me." When she wouldn't look him in the eye the hooked a finger under her chin, gently lifting her eyes to meet his. "There is nothing to feel sorry for. You did nothing wrong."

Stepping back he smiled and pushed her rest of the way through the estate door.

"Get some rest Hawke. You have had quite enough excitement for one day. I'll check up on you tomorrow to make sure everything is mending properly." He smiled whispering goodnight and slowly closed the door behind him, and the snick of the lock informed him that Hawke was safely behind closed doors for the time being.

What he didn't see was Hawke leaning against the closed door, holding her hand softly against the cheek where she had held his hand only minutes before, imagining the feel of his hand against her flesh.


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors Note**:

Okay, I have some explaining to do!

Goodness willing this will be the last author's note that I ever have to post at the top of a chapter. First off I want to apologize for how long it took to finish Chapter 3, my personal life absolutely exploded over the past few weeks and I had to put the story on the back burner in favor of sorting out several icky issues.

Second: By tonight the area of my website dedicated to this story will be up, Twilight's Dawn can be found at under the writing menu. You can find a full compilation of currently completed chapters for you to download and read and discuss the fanfic there. The main reason I'm doing this is in case I have to take a long break from updating again I will have somewhere to inform everyone of it, I don't believe in 'padding' reviews with discussions, but I have allowed comments on page for the story where I will gladly discuss anything with all you lovely readers.

As I stated on my original note on chapter 1, any sex scenes are removed from the upload but are available on the website versions of the story in order to maintain the T rating on the story.

Thanks again for being understanding; hopefully this lull will never happen again!

Love,

Katherine

**Chapter Three**

The winter months passed swiftly for Hawke and her companions. The festive celebrations of Satinalia were followed by many nights before a roaring fire, laughing and indulging in mulled cider as well as generous mugs of honeyed mead to pass the long winter nights. While trials and complications did arise within the city's walls, most were few and far between, the icy wind and sleet kept many behind closed doors and near their fireplaces, creating a welcome respite from their otherwise frenzied days.

The only thing that remained unabated during the daylight hours was the business of running the Hawke estate; messengers arrived with missives ranging from trade agreements and invitations to parties and other social gatherings from many of the noble houses throughout Kirkwall, and while Hawke attended many of them, behind her smiles and gentle jests she couldn't help but feel as though something were missing as she watched the young men and women flirt and court one another. She had no one's arm to link with hers while she attended such parties, and she often found herself feeling jealous of the happy couples.

Her mother had begun to insist that she should look for a young man of her own, and while Hawke would smile and talk with some of the young nobles she found each of them sadly wanting, and despite the efforts of several of the gentlemen who attempted to court her, she always managed to remain politely aloof to their advances, and gently point them in the direction of a more appropriate lady to pursue.

As the seasons finally began to warm Kirkwall began bustling with frenzied activity. The ports were bursting with traders who had been unwilling to brave the winter storms, and as news of the world beyond the borders of the country began to pour in, more and more citizens were becoming restless at the continuing presence of the imposing Qunari. It had been over three years, where were the promised ships to take the heretical giants home? The Tal-Vashoth that had been hiding in the mountains had grown complacent over the winter months and had rekindled their attacks on the highways with renewed vigor; merchant and traveler alike were now subject to robbery and butchery at the hands of the deserters.

Many of the citizens of Kirkwall had grown enraged over the death of a young city guard who had been on patrol in the wounded coast and had been attacked by the Tal-Vashoth. One man attempted to instigate a revolt against the Viscount for not exiling the stranded Qunari from the city, if not for Avaline's wit and quick action against the man, the entire docks district would have fallen into chaos.

The longer the Qunari remained inside the city, the more agitated the people became, and many whispered that the only resolution to the entire affair would end in fire or blood…

Or both.

**~2~**

Running her hands over her face for the hundredth time that morning Hawke stared down at the desk in front of her with an agitated sigh of annoyance. Despite her careful planning, despite her attempts at remaining aloof from the entire matter, it appeared as though she were going to be drug into the middle of the most disastrous political faux paus in the history of Kirkwall, and all because that insufferable band of renegades couldn't work up the common decency to make a living as a hired swords in either Ferelden or Antiva.

_That's not a fair assessment_. Hawke berated herself. _What would you do if you were given your first opportunity of freedom? No restrictions, no one to telling to fulfill a role you had spent your entire life in? I should be thankful they weren't raping and pillaging along the countryside for the past year._

Her meeting with the Viscount earlier hadn't soothed her mind either.

"_The Arishok has requested you. By name."_

Damn, Damn, and Double Damn. What she had hoped originally would prove a useful trade agreement so many years ago had managed to resurface and bite her clean on the ass. It was only after the fact that Fenris had educated her in the ways of the Qunari mind. If she had known then what she knew now she would have told the dwarf to go chew raw lyrium in the deepest pits of the void.

To make matters even worse, her mother was still continuing on with her entire matchmaking nonsense. She was supposed to go eat with some young noble at an aristo dining house this evening. She loved her mother-truly she did-but Hawke was beginning to wonder if she would ever get the ever-so-subtle hint that Hawke had absolutely no interest in any of the noblemen that she continually attempted to marry her eldest daughter off to. One would think that the woman would be a bit more sympathetic given her own history with an arranged marriage.

Giving up paperwork for the time being, Hawke pushed her chair back from her work desk began making herself presentable for the rest of the day's tasks. Her wardrobe had tripled in size over the past three years, filled with different outfits for a plethora of different occasions. She had to grudgingly admit she enjoyed picking out clothes to wear for different social functions, and thought of her ever-expanding wardrobe not as a means to simply look pretty, but as a different brand of weapons that she could artfully use on a different type of battlefield than she was becoming more and more skilled at fighting on.

Politics had turned out to be a rather intricate dance whose steps constantly changed depending on the dancers who took the floor, the entire matter was proving to be not only an educational experience, but also far more profitable than she had originally imaged it would be. Thankfully Kirkwall's nobility did not appear to be as deadly or conniving as that of say: Orlais or Antiva, but she had a rather interesting knack for knowing whose arguments to defend and protect, as well as those to slap down in order to gain a little more social standing among those who ruled the city by virtue of their purse.

Selecting a delicate blue blouse and a soft set of trousers from her wardrobe, Hawke had barely managed to pull both on before she heard a harried knock at the door from the ante-chamber. Both Sandal and Leandra had left earlier to run to the Hightown market, while Bodahn was busy in the kitchen in the back of the estate, Hawke doubted he would be able to hear even that frenzied knock behind so many stone walls.

Slipping her feet into her soft kid slippers, she hurried herself down the stairs and opened the front door to see a rather agitated young elf gripping a letter in his left hand so tightly his knuckles were turning white.

"Messere…" the young elven boy began. Hawke waved him into the ante-chamber quickly and gave the young man a quick physical assessment.

He was young, and had a sinewy build as well as tattered clothes. She could only discern that he lived in the elven Alienage. He wasn't wearing a satchel, which meant he didn't eke out a living as a professional runner. Despite the distance between the Alienage and her own estate, there was no reason for the degree of fatigue he seemed to be suffering from, and while she could understand him being winded from running the entire way, he should not appear so completely stressed.

"I am Hawke." She said carefully, eyes never leaving the boy. "You have a message for me." The lad looked down at the letter in his hand and back at her, eyes full of wariness.

"The Lady Arianni sent me. She said that only you could see the letter, and that I shouldn't hand it to anyone else." Hawke smiled at the lad and bent down on one knee.

"I thank you for delivering it. I can tell you did so as quickly as possible. But your charge is done now son, you can release the letter to me." The youth slowly lifted his hand and pried his fingers open. As Hawke took the letter she felt a small tingle travel up her fingers and brush by the boundaries of her mind.

She was no mage, but her father had been generous in the passing along his arcane education to all of his children. While she couldn't use magic, she could most certainly feel it. The spell that swept by her mind gave a brief nod of acceptance, and whatever had been protecting the contents of the letter vanished almost as quickly as it had begun. The only indication that there had been anything to begin with was the pulsating feeling of urgency that tickled at the forefront of her mind.

Looking back at the boy, who seemed more relaxed than he had a moment ago, she slipped him further into the estate and smiled.

"You did a very good job my dear. If I ever have any need to deliver a message, I'll make sure to call for you. The kitchen is beyond that wooden door there." She pointed to the back of the estate. "Just tell Bodahn that you delivered me a message and that I said to feed you and give you a generous tip before you leave." The boy looked at the door and back at her, eyes shining with the delight of praise.

_What has been done to this boy to make him so excited over so small a complement_? Hawke asked herself as he hurried to the back of the estate. _And what could have Arianni so upset that she would risk a spell protected letter on a child to insure that nobody would be able to see her message?_

Deciding that was a question she would ask after-the-fact instead of before, she tore the envelope open and pulled out the sheet of paper to began reading.

"Messere…" called Bodahn as he walked into the drawing room. "There is a young man currently eating you out of house and home. I just wanted to make sure he did in fact… My Lady?"

"Tell the boy I need him to deliver another message." She began quickly, hurrying toward the stairs. "Inform him I will pay him well to do so. I need him to contact Fenris at his mansion and tell him to hurry to the Hanged Man to enlist Varric's help as well. Then report to the Elven Alienage as quickly as possible. Pay him handsomely, after he has gone please use the cellar entrance and tell Anders his presence is also requested at the Alienage. I will be there as soon as possible."

"My Lady, What's wrong?" she stopped her hurried walk and looked over the banister at the puzzled Dwarf.

"If the research I have done on the subject is any indication. A great many people's lives are potentially at stake, if I'm wrong…" she looked stricken. "A child may die for no reason. Both are situations that I cannot allow."

"I understand My Lady. I'll see that it is done." As the Dwarf hurried back to the kitchen to inform the child his services would be once again required, Hawke was already strapping her bracers into place over the blue blouse, she was in too great hurry to worry about the clothing beneath the armor.

_Please_. She begged inside of her mind. _Please. Don't let anything happen to the mage-child. _

She wasn't exactly sure when over the past several months she had discovered her affectionate weakness for children. She had begun-at a little girl's request-reading at the clinic several nights a week for anyone who was present while Anders' had been fussing over her ankle so long ago. The children would gather around her on the floor in a circle and listen quietly as she read them stories from her own childhood, their bright eyes and sharp minds absorbing every word she said.

_If nothing else, this is what I am fighting for._ Hawke would think as she looked over their smiling faces, or as they talked about the games and stories surrounding their youthful days. _Beyond Mages and Templars, before Qunari or politics. This is what I want to protect._

She would save Feynriel. Or die trying.

**~3~**

The ex-slave could do little more than glare at the conditions of the elven Alienage that he was standing in. Despite the large tree growing in the center of the compound, the place had the same desperate feel of the slave compounds that he had been kept in when he was not being forced to be at the beck and call of his former master.

The people who milled around, glancing warily at the group who had invaded their personal territory seemed proud despite the haggard living conditions they deemed tolerable. Hawke had been frantic in her attempt to convince him to come along with her on this particular mission, and while he detested the thought of entering the realm of spirits and demons, the presence of the apostate had made the decision for him. He would not allow the damned mage to follow her into the fade without sufficient muscle pitted behind her in case he turned on her in a fit of either rage or insanity.

Varric on the other hand viewed the entire situation with a little more open-mindedness. From what Fenris had gathered, Dwarves were cut off from dreams and the fade, and found the entire idea of delving into the unknown as some kind of grand adventure, no doubt the stout rogue would be telling tales of his particular exploit for years to come.

Fenris shifted his weight from foot to foot, finding some solace in the sword that was strapped to his back. No doubt the weapon would not follow him into the dreaming world, but the fact that it was near at hand made him feel more comfortable with the entire situation. If his nervousness was apparent, Hawke's was blatantly obvious. The young woman was pacing the length of the Alienage, worrying her lower lip between her teeth and furrowing her brows as the small group awaited the Dalish Keeper's arrival.

At least the mage wasn't worsening the situation by voicing his opinion. Anders was currently in the middle of a discussion with the mother of the half-breed-apostate-demon that they were attempting to save. Taking the opportunity to have a quick conversation, Fenris finally made his way over to Hawke.

"The speed of your walk is not going to increase the Keeper's gait. Save your energy or when it will matter most." He watched with amusement as Hawke faltered in her steps before giving the Elf a long look.

"I'm worried. I figure it is better that I walk a trail into the limestone than punch my fist against a wall." She looked over her shoulder at the mother and abomination before continuing. "I can't imagine how hard it must be… fearing your child will be overtaken by demons." Fenris snorted.

"If she had given her child to the circle for proper training, perhaps she wouldn't have to worry as she does. She made her choice. Now the rest of us have to live with it." Hawke said nothing, keeping her eyes on the demon-mage, eyebrows furrowing in what he assumed was concentration.

"It is not like you to fear a battlefield." Fenris said softly. "What are you really worried about?"

"I'm not worried about the fade itself." She replied defensively, when she looked as though she weren't going to continue, Fenris simply crossed his arms and glared at her until she sighed and explained herself further. "I worry about what we will find there. I've fought demons, and I've fought blood mages. But they were all here in the mortal world. I have no idea what will occur after…" she pinched her lips together into a tight white line and resumed her pacing.

_You fear what we will find in the fade_? Fenris thought to himself acidly. _Or Who?_

No. He couldn't allow her to enter the fade with the apostate alone. Varric was a good man, but it was that good-naturedness that made Fenris unsure if he would be able to bring himself to protect Hawke if the Abomination decided to turn on her, and Fenris doubted she would raise a sword against the mage even in her own defense if such a confrontation did manage to take place.

He would protect her, and he would keep her safe through this ordeal, and once it was all over they would all put this unpleasant stupidity behind them.

Then why did he feel so uneasy?

**~4~**

Groaning, Hawke pushed herself up onto her side and attempted to get her eyes to focus on the blurry world around her. For a short moment she groggily assumed she was drunk, everything appeared to be fuzzy around the edges and the longer she tried to focus on any particular thing the more her head began to hurt.

"So this is the fade?" came the Dwarf's voice from behind her. "Doesn't look particularly special to me."

"I would suggest keeping aware of your surroundings. We have no idea what could be lurking in this void." Fenris sounded even less amused than she felt at this particular moment. "I suggest we hurry, we shouldn't stay here a moment longer than absolutely necessary." Maneuvering with his almost unnatural feline grace, the elf maneuvered himself in front of the young woman and offered her his hand.

"Agreed." Hawke said wearily, as the ex-slave pulled her to her feet. "Where is Anders?" Hawke asked unsteadily as she attempted to find her footing, smiling gratefully as Fenris' tightened his protective hold around her waist, the elf was currently sporting a most particular a expression frozen somewhere between concern and anger.

"Perhaps you should gather your wits first." He whispered in her ear as he pressed the young woman to his side. "There have been slight… complications." She jerked suddenly and twisted to view the small room around them.

"Is he hurt? Where is-" Breaking free of Fenris' protective embrace. She turned and saw the mage standing in a corner. "Anders?" she asked breathlessly.

"I am Justice." The apostate spoke calmly. "I must admit, It is good to feel the breath of the fade again, not the empty air of your world." As the spirit stared at her with his piercing blue eyes, Hawke couldn't help but fidget under their strict scrutiny, it almost felt like the spirit was making a judgment against her very soul.

"Is Anders still… in there?" She finally asked, taking a tentative step toward him, she wanted nothing more than to examine the blue veins that ran along her companions body for a few minutes, out of the entirety of the world around them, they appeared to be the only things that seemed… solid.

"He is… watching. Yes. He is not comfortable with our current situation. He finds not being in control of our body unsettling." Justice looked around the room for a short moment before continuing. "We should move on. I can feel Feynriel's mind straining. We do not have much time before his terror starts to manifest itself throughout this dream." Taking point, Justice walked through the large double doors and looked out over the expanse before him, Hawke trailing close behind.

"Are you familiar with this part of the fade Justice?" She attempted to ask casually, looking over her shoulder at her other two companions as they ventured out into this new wispy world.

"No. This is merely a dreamscape crafted by the dreamer Feynriel and the Demons who are attempting to feed upon him." The spirit paused. "Although I am aware of the locations of the demons within this realm. For the moment there are three demons that are fully aware as well as a handful of lesser demons that serve them." Hawke nodded, narrowing her eyes and looking over the courtyard before her.

"It looks just like the Gallows." She said with surprise. "How does Feynriel know the layout of the Gallows?"

"Perhaps he attempted to make a right decision at one point in his life." Fenris replied blandly. As Justice tensed Hawke instinctively reached out to brush her fingers along his arm, much like she would whenever Anders' became annoyed past his point of tolerance.

"Fenris now is not the time." She replied icily, dropping her comforting hand from the mage's side. "There is work to be done. We are here now, it is best that we all work together as a unit than against one another to solve this matter as quickly and effectively as possible." The elf's only reply was to cross his arms and glare as Hawke began taking in the scenery in front of her, formulating the best strategy for the given terrain. "Varric, while we explore this courtyard, I would appreciate it if you remained on the upper levels in case we require suppressing fire."

"At least the view will be interesting." Muttered the Dwarf as he pulled his crossbow from his back, beginning a thorough sweep of the upper levels. When she signaled for Fenris to join him during his once-over, the elf began to protest until she shot him a steely glare that left no room for argument. Grumbling, he started after Varric, leaving Justice and Hawke alone at the crest of the stairs.

"Where are the locations of the major demons Justice?"

"One is located below. From what I can discern it is a demon of sloth, which is why it has not shown itself yet. The other two are on either end of the halls that branch off of this main area." The spirit studied her for a moment. "One appears to be a demon of Desire, while the other seems to be a demon of Pride." Hawke nodded slowly as she took in all of the information.

"The Keeper warned that the demons would attempt to lure those who I brought with me into a spell of some kind. Thoughts?"

"Mortals are spurred forth by pride and desire more than any other emotion. The demons will divert their attention to those who protect you in an attempt to keep themselves out of the fight if at all possible, be wary."

"What about you?" she asked quietly.

"You will not need to fear the demons attempting to turn us against you. I will protect Anders from any evil influence." The young woman looked her possessed companion in the eye before asking her final question.

"I need a promise from you if you do not mind." She said softly. Justice eyed her for a moment before replying in his rather annoying monotone.

"I promise nothing until I know the terms."

"If something happens and I am swayed by a demon into accepting an offer. I need you to swear to strike me down." Something flickered across the the spirit's face for the briefest of moments. If Hawke didn't know any better she would have sworn it was pain.

"If you succumb to the evil lies of a demon I will strike you down… here. Anders' is concerned as to why you would ask this question of us."

"Because I think you would be the only one capable of doing so if the situation demanded it." When the spirit didn't reply she continued with exasperation. "I don't believe Varric would ever attack me without provocation, and while Fenris is hot-headed, I truly believe he would not be able to run me through in cold-blood. That leaves you Justice; I know you will do the right thing regardless of the people involved."

The spirit stared down at her for a long moment, she could feel him making another decision about her, piecing together what he had seen through the eyes of her friend and what she had just asked of him in an attempt to come to a conclusion regarding the state of her soul and moral character.

If the spirit had any scruples regarding the situation he did not show them, offering her only a curt nod and following her down the stairs to meet the first round of demons.

**~5~**

_She looks so heartbroken_. Varric thought to himself as he watched the dumb-struck look that had haunted Hawke's face since they had faced the pride demon. The Dwarf had to admit to his own amount of surprise when Fenris had given into temptation and accepted the offer the demon had placed at the ex-slaves feet. Truthfully he didn't fault the elf, but the brokenhearted scream of rage when Hawke had to run her companion through with her dagger had certainly shaken him.

She had stood over the spot where his body had quite literally evaporated from existence, staring blankly where he had stood only moments before, eyes wide and shaking for several minutes before she finally managed to regain her composure.

Justice had consoled her as was the best of his ability, explaining that Fenris was not actually dead, but would have simply woken up in the mortal world. Since the pride demon's existence had been eradicated and no contract was ever fully consummated, the ex-Tevinter slave would be safe in the home they had all fallen asleep in.

Regardless, Hawke still didn't seem to be at peace with the entire situation. The fact that Anders' stowaway had decided that he needed to keep within a two foot radius of the woman was another interesting piece of information the Dwarf was not going to forget. Regardless of the spirit's own personal feelings towards the woman, something appeared to be spurring him into a ruthless type of protectiveness that would not allow him to leave the woman's side for even a moment.

_Interesting._ Thought Varric as he mentally filed the information away for further scrutiny. _Most interesting indeed._

"Are you well?"

A simple enough question, but when spoken by a spirit who was currently possessing her mage companion it held a great deal more weight than readily apparent. Hawke looked over at Justice for a moment before she began speaking with exaggerated care.

"No. I am not _well_. I had to harm someone that I care about due to a weakness of his own heart." She stopped, pinching the bridge of her nose as she always did when attempting to stave off a headache. "The longer I stay in this place the worse I feel. I can't focus on anything, my mind keeps swaying." She waved her hand at the expanse around her. "Everything appears solid, but the ground keeps shaking under my feet. There is a pulse through the floor that rattles my bones, and I can feel its thrum in my heart and lungs every time I take a step."

"You are upset." replied the spirit calmly. "Do you still trust the elf? I would not begin to suggest possessing an ability to understand the mortal mind, but I will attest to the fact that Demons are very persuasive." The matter-of-fact tone that he insisted on implementing only stroked her agitation further.

"Of course I am upset! Of course I still trust Fenris. It wasn't his fault that the demon tempted him. The man has been running for almost as long as he can remember. He thought he would have a true chance at freedom! How could I hold such a thing against his conscience?" Justice tilted his head to one side, appearing to focus on something in the distance before continuing.

"You are blaming yourself then? For not being able to protect him?" Justice briefly furrowed his brows. "Anders does not approve of this train of thought. The elf made his own choice; you cannot cure his heart of its hatred." He took a step forward and placed his hands on Hawke's shoulders, speaking seriously to the woman. "You can heal no heart but your own Hawke. Do not blame yourself for the action you were forced to take in order to defend those still with you."

"Perhaps if I had been smarter-faster-a better friend to him, then he wouldn't have fallen to temptation." she muttered to herself with such deep seated self-loathing the spirit actually recoiled from her.

"Hawke..." The Dwarf finally interjected, unable to bear the expression of hurt and self-loathing on his friend's face any longer. "Why are you blaming yourself?"

"Because he got hurt and she shouldn't have!" She roared. "Do you have any idea how this will effect Fenris once we all return to the waking world? He is going to withdraw from everyone again! What if he feels so guilty that he attempts to flee the city! I can't guarantee him protection when he is outside of the Free Marshes." Spinning on her heel, Hawke slammed her fist into the wall, wincing at the pain that traveled up her arm. "I promised I would protect him. I failed in that task, and now someone I care about is hurt because of it."

"You protected him more than you think Hawke." Varric reached out and took the woman's hand, rubbing his thumb across her injured knuckles. _Maybe we put far too much on the girl. _He thought sadly. _Truth be told, she is the youngest person of all of us and everyone looks to her for guidance and protection. This is just the tip of a much larger and dangerous scar on her soul. _The thought spurring him forth he continued. "You stopped him before he could hurt anyone who he considers a friend, and he didn't hurt you. I think living with having done that would have hurt him more than simply being tempted by a demon."

"You acted honorably. You have nothing to be ashamed of." The spirit replied with an uncompromising tone filled with unyielding conviction before cocking his head once more and listening. "Anders suggests you speak with the elf after we return. He assures that while Fenris will most likely be upset, it will be more at himself than at you. But now is not the time for such thoughts. The demons will feed upon your doubt as long as you are within this dream."

Resigning herself to conversations to come, Hawke and her companions walked forward to complete their current mission, while doubts still nagged at the back of her mind. The companionable closeness of the spirit and Dwarf at her side did much to ease her discomfort.

If the spirit of Justice gave any notice he made no mention of it, but despite their offers of comfort, Varric could still see the brokenhearted look of defeat clouding Hawke's face and eyes.

**~6~**

_What in Andraste's name am I doing here?_ He thought to himself as he pushed the large wooden door closed behind him before quickly making his way upstairs to knock on Hawke's bedroom door.

He had not willingly entered the fade since he and Justice had merged so many years ago, afraid of what he might find. Taking a backseat to the control of your own body was a very unsettling experience for anyone. But he had missed the mistiness and changeability of the dream world over the years. The fade was like an oasis of magic and power to mages, a place where one could go and relax, to feel the powers pulsing through the beyond and let it flow through them freely. He knew staying away from it forever would have been impossible for him in the long run, but it didn't make the idea of traveling there with a stowaway any more delightful.

She wasn't there.

He cast a cursory glance around the room, only being able to see a hastily discarded blue blouse and trousers thrown haphazardly on the floor in an unceremonious heap, before his eyes traveled to her workdesk.

_Makers breath._ He thought to himself as he saw the large stacks of paperwork that occupied it. At least the entire fiasco appeared to be organized. _ I wonder how many trees met their end only to appear within this estate._ Anders thought with a slight grin as he shook his head. _The woman should have been a steward_.

The apostate had been so embroiled in his own musings that he didn't realize that Leandra had managed to sneak up behind him until she had placed a hand on his shoulder. Flinching involuntarily at the unfamiliar touch, he attempted to hide his embarrassment by offering her a sheepish smile.

"Normally I would scold and lecture you about the impropriety of attempting to sneak into an unmarried young woman's room. But I think I understand the reason you are here tonight." the woman said warmly, taking his hand and leading him away from her daughter's bedroom door and towards the banister. "If you are looking for Hawke, she is on the roof contemplating whatever it was the lot of you were doing earlier. She also visited Fenris late this afternoon, I'm assuming the meeting did not end well, as she has been brooding even more than when she left to visit him."

"I assumed she would visit him, but I am unaware of what transpired during the conversation." Anders replied cautiously.

"If you truly had no idea what the subject of their conversation was, you wouldn't be here to check on her now." Leandra looked to the stairs that led to the roof before continuing. "My daughter takes a great deal on herself. She never asks for anything in return for doing so. When her father died..." the woman's voice shook slightly. "She didn't cry, she didn't fret or act out like Bethany or Carver. She took care of everyone, and by the time I had brought myself out of my depression she had taken her place as head of the household: making sure Bethany kept up her studies and that Carver kept going to training practice on time."

"It wasn't fair to her, to put that much responsibility on someone so young. I think all she learned from her father's death was that feeling to strongly for anyone is some kind of weakness of the heart. But now..." Leandra made a watery smile. "She has friends now, and people she cares about deeply. I know she wants to protect everyone, and every time she fails at that impossible task it turns into another scar upon her heart. When Carver... Bethany..."

Like small puzzle pieces falling into place the mage suddenly understood why Hawke had taken Fenris' betrayal in the fade so terribly hard.

_He got hurt and he shouldn't have!_

_You can heal no heart but your own._

He squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped his arms around the woman, rubbing her back and murmuring soft reassurances to a mother who had lost so much, as he attempted to quiet the dull ache in his heart for a daughter who felt that showing her own pain would only harm the heart of the last piece of family that she had left.

"I'll talk to her Leandra." He finally said to her. "Let me see what I can do." Sniffling, the woman looked into Anders eyes for a long moment before softly smiling.

"You remind me of him sometimes." She sniffed. "My Malcolm. I can see the same conviction and soft heart in you that I saw in him. Sometimes… Sometimes I think she sees it to." Sighing Leandra shook her head and pulled out a handkerchief to mop up her face and waved the mage towards the stairs. "Go see to my daughter, just know that I wholeheartedly approve of you young man, that is," She smiled. "As long as I don't catch you sneaking into my eldest daughter's room in the middle of the night again."

Hunching his shoulders and attempting to look convincingly meek, Anders made his way up the stairs and to the roof. Leandra's tinkling laughter trailing up the stairway behind him.

It was a beautiful garden, mostly due to the persistent affections of her mother and the helpful care of Merrill. Hawke knew very little of greenery other than maintaining a small kitchen and herb garden, but when her mother mentioned how much she missed having a 'little bit of earth' to dig her hands into, and Merrill's discomfort at not being surrounded by living plants, Hawke had commissioned the roof of the estate to be turned into a small forest of plants and flowers to give the two women a little piece of home and comfort within the walls of the city.

Deep beds of dirt lined the rim of the roof where small saplings had been planted to remove the feeling of being in the city, and short soft grass had been spread around their bases to create an illusion of a secluded meadow. The interior of the roof had been separated into several different sections to provide a small garden for fresh vegetables, herbs, and other bits of this and that that the two women had shown any interest in growing. Flowers and bushes which were finally beginning to bloom after their winter respite gently perfumed the air. Hawke had thought Merrill was going to die of surprise when she had first seen the transformation; the Dalish elf had spent almost all of her spare time on the roof afterwards, tending and talking to the small plants to pass her idle hours.

_My daughter takes a great deal on herself. She never asks for anything in return for doing so._

When he had finally crested the stairs and found her in the small maze of greenery that surrounded him he sighed softly. She stood, still as a statue in front of a small embrium plant, gently stroking the little green leaves that were beginning to poke out of the soft earth. She was furrowing her eyebrows as if in concentration while her other hand clutched her loosely tied robe closed against sea breeze that threatened to tear the thin fabric away from her slim body.

"Hawke?" he called softly, breaking the young woman out of her revere, turning in the direction of the familiar voice, she gently tugged her robe tighter around herself and smiled.

"Anders." She said warmly, taking a step towards the mage. "What brings you here at this time of night? I assume you are well?"

"Well… yes I... Yes." He looked around the enclosed little garden for a moment. "I wanted to see how you were." Stepping slowly around a small potted flower he made his way closer to her. "I understand you spoke to Fenris. I'm assuming everything went well with your… conversation." When Hawke turned away and began toying with a small flower and didn't respond, he reached out and touched her hand. "Surely he understood the situation, he can't possibly be mad at you."

"Of course he wasn't mad at me." She replied tartly. "I suppose it would be strange for me to say that I would have preferred that he had been. He blamed me… a little, but I understand that he was more upset with himself than at me. Which in all honesty makes me feel even worse." She tugged at the small leaf, snapping it from the stem and glaring at it for a moment before flicking it onto the walkway.

"I'm afraid I don't understand your reasoning." Anders hedged cautiously. "You would prefer that he be angry with you?"

"I can deal with someone being angry with me for my own stupidity or lack of ability than being understanding regarding the entire situation. I wholeheartedly deserve his hatred and blame for what happened in the fade. It was my fault that he gave into the temptations of that demon."

"I certainly hope you didn't say that to him." Growled the mage, taking a step back from the woman. "I can personally guarantee he would be furious with you if you were to ever voice _that _particular opinion to him." Hawke met his glare with a steely eyed look of contempt.

"If I recall correctly ser mage, a stated opinion that is backed by fact still remains a fact. It was my fault that he got hurt." Hawke turned her attention back to the plant in front of her, attempting to end the discussion.

Anders could feel something scrambling I the back of his mind, scratching some raw emotion as he watched her sink once again into her self-condemning hatred. _Oh no, Serah._ He took a step towards her and grabbed her wrist. _This conversation is not over yet. _

"You are not going to do this to yourself." He growled at her as he clamped his hands on her wrists. "You are not going to take the blame over the actions of another person. I saw how hard you punished yourself after Bethany was taken by the circle. _That_ was not your fault. As far as I understand, Carver's death _also_ wasn't your fault. You are not responsible for the actions that other people choose to take."

"I defend and protect Anders. It's the only thing that I'm any good at doing." She snarled, attempting to pull her wrists free of his hands. "It was my job to protect Fenris." The twist of anger and rage that crossed the mages face when she spoke would have frightened anyone with even a glint of common sense.

Hawke simply bared her teeth back at him.

He could still feel some seemingly foreign instinct clawing away at the inside of his skull, demanding him to remove the cause of her pain, and recoiling because her pain was self inflicted. She twisted in his grip, and the sounds of her growling rage as she pulled against him only stroked the savage feeling growing inside of him, crumbling away at the barriers and defenses he had built around his mind and soul.

Finally, seeming to give up on twisting her way out of his grasp, Hawke suddenly sunk her teeth into the mage's forearm, causing a howl of rage to erupt from the mage as he felt the last of his defenses shred into a thousand pieces. Whatever tether that had kept the apostate tied within the realm of civilized behavior crumbled into dust at the feel of her teeth in his flesh.

Releasing her wrists he entwined the fingers of one of his hands into her hair, encircling his other arm around her waist, pulling her tightly against his body.

"You should run." He purred in her ear softly, tucking a finger under her chin and forcing her to meet his eyes. He wasn't sure of the expression on her face at that particular moment. Her eyes appeared glassy yet still managed to retain the feral heat of the anger she had been feeling only moments before, but he also saw a strange and savage understanding lurking behind her eyes.

"No." she gasped breathlessly, tilting her head back, offering the mage her throat.

Softly, slowly, Anders fluttered kisses along her jaw and to the base of her ear, smiling as Hawke's breathing slowly became an erratic tempo pressing into his chest with each quick rise and fall of hers. Only after teasing the young woman's earlobe did he return his attention to her slightly parted lips, gently brushing his own against hers and pulling back once she attempted to lean in for more.

As he looked down into Hawke's lust filled eyes he could feel something inside of him breaking. _This isn't right_. He fought against his own mind. _This isn't right for her. I won't ruin her this way._ With a growl of rage he parted himself from her. Pushing her away from him as he took a shaky step back, breaking whatever spell had almost entrapped the two of them.

"Anders…" Hawke's voice sounded both musky and confused… and hurt.

"I'm sorry." Anders replied swiftly, breathing shakily as he tried to piece back together whatever inside of him had snapped. "I don't know what I was… I didn't mean…"

"It's fine." She finally said. "I assume we both simply got lost in the moment. Sit down here." Leading the mage over to a bench, she watched him very carefully as he continued to suck in breath after shuddering breath.

"Was it Justice? Is that what brought this on?" When the mage shook his head to her question her brows furrowed and a look of deep concentration clouded her face. "Is everything alright though. Are you well now?"

"Yes." _No. _"I'm fine, I just need a few moments." Anders scrubbed his hands over his face repeatedly and kept his eyes on the ground between his feet as he gulped in the fresh sea air.

They sat in companionable silence for what seemed like an eternity as he attempted to repair whatever had ultimately broken inside of him. Hawke said nothing on the matter, keeping her opinions of his attack to herself and walking him to the cellar and wishing him goodnight.

"I'll see you tomorrow evening ser mage." She said with a smile a she closed the door. "I still have to read to those lovely children you care for." Before he could conjure an appropriate protest she had shut the door and the soft snick of the lock confirmed that she was safe from him for at least the time being.

Unsure of what else to do, Anders hurried back to the clinic and tried to piece together what had just occurred on the roof before being overtaken by a violent urge to be sick.

He couldn't think. Not about what he had almost done to Hawke. _How could I have almost lost control like that? _The urge to tear, to rend, to protect her had somehow twisted in to some obscure mixture of violent passion that had swept him away in some kind of mindless sexual haze.

Anders gripped his head as he attempted to quell the emotions swirling through his mind. His brain felt as though lightning was cracking in every recess, his body burned with an aching fever, his heart…

Unsure of what else to do, Anders twisted himself face down on his small bed, buried his face into the small embroidered pillow, and wept.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Varric couldn't help but wonder idly to himself how much easier his life had been when he only had to deal with Bartrand's foolishness instead of constantly juggling the welfare and emotional stability of no less than four people at any given time. Thank Andraste at least Avaline was able to see to her own affairs more often than not. But this will-they-wont-they nonsense between the apostate mage and the humble heiress was one drama short of the playhouse.

Personally both Isabella and himself had originally found the entire affair both innocent and sickeningly sweet, but as time went on the flat out refusal of the mage to give into his own desires and jump into the knickers of the object of his affection or Hawke's... well in all honesty he had absolutely no idea why Hawke was so against riding the mage into the sunset and off into happily ever after. Either way the tension between those two had an almost physical presence at this point, and it was starting to cause problems for some of the other members of their little troupe.

Which led to this particular visit into the Darktown slums.

It had been a hard bet to take, and an even harder one to loose, but according to the wager that he and Isabella had over the card table the night before he was now in charge of speaking to at least one of the two adults and figure out exactly what was wrong with them. Varric had a vague idea as to what Anders' personal hang-up over having a physical or emotional relationship with Hawke was, but if the woman could look past a little possession, why couldn't he?

Sighing and pushing the doorway to the clinic open, he saw the target of this little misadventure mending the broken arm of a former refugee. Varric had met the man a few times before at the Hanged Man over the years, and had apparently left a strong enough impression for as the two men's eyes met, the man smiled widely despite the apparent pain in his arm and yelled him over to the bedside.

"Ho! Varric! Fancy meeting you here? You didn't get in a bar brawl again did you Serah?" Laughing and rolling his stout shoulders the dwarf replied.

"Nothing so spectacular. Just here to visit a friend." He clapped the mage on the back. "Best healer in Kirkwall eh? I imagine that there would be several hundred less citizens of this fair city if he weren't around don't you?" Letting out an irritated sigh, the blond-haired mage released the man's arm from his grasp.

"It's healed, but you need to work it easy for awhile. One of my volunteers will be by in a moment to make you a sling to go over your neck to support your arm. If you experience any unreasonable swelling or pain over the next few days, come back again immediately. Otherwise I'll see you again in a few more days."

"Of course Messere." Said the man with a small bobbling smile. Varric assumed he had probably been drinking steadily since he attained his injury. Anders' fussed over the man's arm for a few more minutes before motioning for the dwarf to follow him to the back of the clinic and into his 'bedroom' the only area of the old warehouse that actually qualified as a place of privacy.

It wasn't until the mage turned around that Varric realized how haggard the man looked. If he recalled correctly Anders couldn't have been older than 25, but the mage looked like he had aged 10 years in the past week.

"What can I do for you Varric? I assume you are feeling well at least." The apostate attempted his best charming smile, but it only made him appear even more tired than he had before.

"First things first Blondie. When was the last time you ate something? And I mean a meal, not a crust of bread that you happened to find in a gutter." The question removed the façade of humor, only to be replaced a shrug and the mage avoiding making eye contact.

"Andraste's tits boy, how can you expect to take care of anyone if you can't even take care of yourself? I might not have an understanding of magic but it is common knowledge that if you are to safely channel magic through your body, you have to take in more food than someone who has no connection to the fade, the fact that you are a Grey Warden doesn't help your metabolism either." Maker's breath, if this was any indication of what it was supposed to be like to have children, he was seriously going to get himself severed.

"I eat enough to survive." he mage replied lamely, turning and fussing over the materials scattered about his desk. Varric walked around the man so his irritation could not be ignored.

"Is this about the fade? About the spirit coming out? Is that why you have been moping around for the past few days?"

"No." Anders ruffled through a stack of paper and fussily arranged it into a neat pile.

"Then what is it? You haven't talked to anyone since it happened. You seemed fine after the fact, and Hawke hasn't been speaking to anyone either. I saw Justice and her talking the entire time we were walking around that dream-scape, if anything he seemed to approve of her."

"He does approve of her... mostly." Hedged the mage cautiously.

"So that is obviously not the problem. Just spit it out so we can help you deal with it."

"Its not a matter of dealing with anything." spit the mage. "I can't be forgiven for what I've done." Varric shook his head to express his confusion.

"Blondie, the worst thing I've ever seen you do is 'accidentally' smack Fenris in the back of the head with a mug while he was insulting Mages. I'm sure you haven't done anything that justifies an execution."

"I attacked Hawke." The pained look that crossed his face almost caused Varric's blood to run cold.

"Anders." he dwarf said to calmly, removing the friendliness from his voice. "What did you do?" He watched the mage stab his fingers through his hair, pulling cornstalk strands loose of their leather restraint, sticking up like small golden daggers.

"I don't know. Varric, I don't know." The mage keened, falling onto the worn chair, clutching at the sides of his head. "One minute I was holding her wrist, preparing to yell at her, and then everything afterwards is just blank. It couldn't have been anything to terribly bad, but there were teeth marks on my forearm. She bit me. She wouldn't have bitten me unless she felt threatened. Justice doesn't remember anything that happened either."

Varric looked at the man sitting before him for a long moment before letting out a sigh. That was what this was all about? The man looked as though he thought he had run the woman through on a pike.

"Hawke told Isabella that you had kissed her, but apparently came to your senses before the two of you progressed any further than that. Riviani seems to think that Hawke was far more irritated over the fact that you broke off the kiss than being angry about you grabbing her wrists." Anders simply stared down at his hands with a mixture of both horror and loathing.

"It wasn't me that kissed her... it wasn't Justice either... it was something different, and far worse than that. I have no idea what happened, and I'm terrified that I may have hurt her far worse than she is letting on."

Looking at the figure before him, Varric could almost forget the fact that this man was capable of both great compassion and terrifying destruction. The only thing he saw before him now was a person who was slowly crumbling under an increasing weight of self loathing and stress that the dwarf could easily admit he would never personally understand.

"Have you talked to her since it happened?" the dwarf asked softly.

"No. I've been too scared to let myself near her, I can't control myself around her and I'm terrified that if this happens again, she may walk away with more than bruised wrists, if she walks away at all."

Anders didn't need his pity, he needed someone who could draw a line for him and defend it. While he was sure that Hawke would never willingly allow the man she loved to hurt himself intentionally, he had a sickening feeling that she would never raise a hand against him despite how badly he managed to hurt her.

"I'll go speak to Hawke." Varric finally replied, but he looked the mage in the eye before continuing. He couldn't draw a line and defend it without knowing what he was protecting these two from. "From what I've gathered Justice would never hurt her, and I know beyond a doubt that you would never dream of doing so." The slow nod of agreement from Anders pushed the rest of the question out of him. "Blondie, what part of yourself could ever have any desire to hurt her?" The haunted look in the Mages eyes spoke more than words.

"I don't know Varric. I just don't know."

**~2~**

Normally after a conversation with Blondie, Varric would have simply gone home and allowed the two youngsters to sort out their own problems. But given the nature of the conversation with the apostate, he felt that there was a dire need of some following up to do with the female in question.

He knocked-once-and made his way into the ante-chamber, pausing a split second to peek inside of the study where Fenris and the other ex-slave Orana were currently taking part in their reading lessons. Hawke had insisted that the lessons were to be taken at her estate as opposed to Fenris's mansion, due to Orana still feeling discomfort at walking around the city alone and Hawke's worry that the tutor might accidentally snitch about a Hightown squatter in the Tevinter merchant's mansion.

Satisfied that he wouldn't be bothered during this particular discussion; Varric made his way up the stairs and walked straight into Hawke's bedroom. He stood for a moment, waiting for the young woman to pause in her paperwork long enough to actually notice his presence. After more than five minutes had passed he gave up on the pretense and cleared his throat loud enough to catch her attention.

"Oh Maker. I'm sorry Varric I was pre-occupied with this letter." she said quickly, stuffing the contents back into a very expensive looking envelope, waxen red seal gleaming slightly in the candlelight.

"No worries. It's not every day someone receives a letter from Ferelden royalty... or so I assume." Throwing a cursory glance across the table he sat down on one of the spare chairs available and schooled his face in an expression of quiet interest.

"It isn't anything particularly important. Her Majesty the Warden-Commander just sent a note educating me regarding Qunari politics and asking one or two questions about the Tal-Vashoth." Varric simply raised a questioning eyebrow that indicated an interest in further information. "Apparently one of her former companions against the Blight was a previously dishonored Qunari, he... eluded to the idea that the Qun would eventually demand the conquering of Ferelden. I think she just wanted a little reassurance that the ones parked on her Northern border were not actually going to attack her land."

"Hard to launch an effective attack with so few numbers, or without a boat to move them." The woman before him ran a finger thoughtfully over the papers before her and shrugged, acknowledging the point.

"Be that as it may, there are still plenty of Qunari mercenaries littered throughout their kingdom, and the Free Marshes have a large number of renegades lurking throughout it's foothills. I'm afraid Mistress Theirin and I both have the same assumption that they are simply waiting like the Qunari in the docks for some sign to attack."

"I thought Ferelden was more concerned with Orlais than the heretics of Seheron." Politics really were so terribly interesting sometimes.

"True. But Ferelden cannot hold off the army of Orlais if they were to attack at this very moment. The only reason Orlais hasn't already launched an attack and attempted to re-claim their lost Provence is due to the fact that it would appear less than charitable to the country who took the entire brunt of an attack that would have swiftly stomped Orlais into the dust."

"There is no hypocrisy quite like that of a theological monarchy." laughed the rogue.

"Now you just sound like Anders." giggled the young woman as she organized the masses of paper scattered over her desk and selected an overstuffed file. "I'm actually glad you are here, there are a few trade manifests that I would like you to look over with me, and I think I might have found another farming community that would be willing to take in refugees."

"We can talk about that later hatchling. I came here with a few questions to ask you, and I'm afraid business will have to wait until I get an honest answer or two." The look Hawke gave him unsettled him a bit, it almost appeared as though she had set aside her good natured humor and put on a dark glittering coat of no-nonsense.

"Questions such as Serah Varric?" she asked calmly. Varric had to admit, he loved the young woman as though she were his own kin, but her ability to set aside her emotions so easily sometimes scared the shit out of him. When she acted like this he almost felt like the carefree Hawke he drank with at the tavern had been swallowed whole and the mind lurking behind those eyes was far more ancient and terrifying than any abomination or demon he had witnessed thus far. But he also knew how much she cared for the people in her life, which was why he managed to keep the authority in his voice and easily reply.

"None of that Hawke. This is about your well-being. I just finished having a chat with Anders-" he noted the wince that crossed her face as he spoke the name. "And I need to ask you a few questions to make sure that everything is fine." And to make sure I don't have to murder my friend for rape. He thought to himself darkly.

"Ask your questions Varric. I will answer to the best of my ability." Her facial expression hadn't changed with the exception of the grimace, nor had the tone of her voice.

"Anders doesn't remember what happened between the two of you the other night on the roof. He is afraid he injured you, so I need to ask: Do you need to see a doctor?" When her expression changed to puzzlement he continued. "He vaguely remembered grabbing ahold of you roughly."

"My wrists were sore the next day, but there were no marks, no bruises." as if to prove her point she rolled up her sleeves and shrugged. "He kissed me, that's all." She wasn't quite able to keep the regret out of her voice as she spoke.

"He seems to think that he did a lot more than that Hawke." Her eyes darkened at the unspoken question and she let out a small growl.

"I can defend myself Varric. If he had actually attempted to injure me I would have easily been able to stop him."

"At the expense of hurting him? Hawke, I know you. You would gladly let Merril bleed you to death for a ritual before you so much as gave her a paper cut in your own defense. You do not attack those you consider friends. Why would I not believe you would lie to hide a hurt against yourself if only to defend them?"

"I may lie to defend those I care about Varric. But I'm not lying about this. Anders did nothing more than grab me by the wrists and kiss me." The last part of the sentence she completed sounding almost like a pouting adolescent.

"Did you want him to do more?" probed the dwarf, steepling his fingers and leaning back in his chair.

"I hardly think that is any of your business Varric." she muttered with a hint of warning in her voice.

"We all care about you Hawke, and while we all feel you should be free to make your own decisions, but that doesn't mean we won't all voice our particular opinions if we happen to feel you may be making a mistake. It would be one thing if I thought you were only interested in a quick tumble with the man, but I think this goes much further than that for you." the gentle tugging at the corners of her lips betrayed her inner thoughts.

"It is... much more than that to me. But he needs time Varric. If I push him now, he will only run. I would rather wait patiently for him to come around on his own than force him into a decision I'm already sure he will make." She avoided his gaze by staring into one of the candles on her desk.

"So you've been aware of his feelings all along?"

"I'm not saying I knew the second he began returning my attraction, but I've never been completely blind to his affections." her smile twisted slightly with sadness. "As Isabella always says: his tells are plainer than his hatred of Templars. He has a hard time hiding feelings that are floating so close to the surface."

"Then I suppose you would know better than anyone what is best for him." the dwarf finally replied, hiding his admiration behind a tone of dismissiveness. "Are you sure he needs to be alone right now though? He seriously thinks he injured you."

"I had every intention of visiting him this evening to bring him some food. Merrill was kind enough to volunteer her time at the clinic over the past few days for me to help keep an eye on him and make sure that he didn't do anything particularly foolish. When he finally snapped at her and told her to leave today I figured he had come around enough to actually see me without cowering in a corner or fussing over me."

"I see." he didn't see, but it was becoming steadily clear that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with inane female logic. "I suppose I should apologize for intruding where I had no grounds to do so."

"I understand your concern Varric. I appreciate it-believe me-I'm sure being the one to ask me these questions was far more embarrassing than my answering them."

_Looks like she understands far more than Blondie's mind_. The Rogue thought to himself, not sure if he should feel flattered or run for the nearest hills he let out a sigh and pulled his chair closer to the workdesk. "Okay fledgling. Let's take a look at those trade manifests."

**~3~**

"No." Replied the elf as he stared down the darkened stairway. "I refuse to do this." His politely unyielding reply only caused the woman at his side to cross her arms and give him her most mischievous smile.

"Oh yes you are Serah. Given the fact that you are the only one who is complaining about my visits to the Darktown clinic without someone keeping a watchful eye over me, you are the best candidate to be my chaperon during this particular visit."

"You've never needed an escort before." He replied just as stoically. "What is so special about this particular visit?" Fenris never thought he harbored a nervous disposition, but the calculating look on the woman's face was beginning to make him sweat beneath his armor.

"Nothing particularly fancy. But there is going to be a group of elven children in the clinic tonight. I thought you might be able to help me handle them."

"Handle them..." The sharp tone overtook his voice before he had a chance to check himself. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt at this point that if any human viewed slavery or the plight of the city elves and Dalish as unjust it was the woman standing beside him. Her recent hunting of the Tevinter slavers into the caverns and rescue of Oriana was proof enough of that. The hurt look that crossed her face at his hastily spat out words cut at his heart. "I'm not very good with children Hawke." He finally amended.

"That's fine, I'm not asking you to watch them for an extended period of time." she shifted the baskets on her right and smiled. "I'm asking you to entertain, come on!" she smiled and grabbed the Elf's hand and tugged him down into the cellar after her, pulling him close and helping him grope his way through the darkened basement, fingers curled with his and gently brushing against the lyrium that had been branded into his skin so many years ago.

It almost felt pleasant.

With an unceremonious clank, Hawke pushed open the 'emergency exit' and pushed him through, sliding the lock back into place behind her.

"It's a wonder your home never gets broken into." Fenris stated as he watched her move a few crates in front of the small door.

"The Clinic is right there; besides, I'm fairly certain Varric has all of the thieves' guilds and cartas in the entire city in his back pocket. Why do you think your mansion has never been broken into? Not that I'm sure anyone would ever be able to tell if someone did happen to break in."

"There is no point in cleaning out the entire building if I'm only using the room I sleep in." Hawke had been badgering him for the past three years to at least let her and a few of the others spend some time cleaning out all of the debris and salvaging whatever furniture they could in order to make Fenris a little more comfortable in his own home. "Besides I've lived in an immaculate house for what I assume was the majority of my life, I find the clutter... refreshing."

"Whatever your will." she replied with a delicate eye-roll as she pushed her way through the clinic door. Almost immediately she was set upon by a wave of children running up and tugging at the hems of her skirts, asking her which story was going to be read to them.

"Unfortunately my darlings I'm afraid I won't be the one reading." she said with her best smile. "Master Fenris will be doing the honors tonight."

"I am not-" began the elf as Hawke handed off a bundle of treats to the children.

"Settle yourselves and have a sweet, he will be with you in a moment." He watched as the children scurried off to sit around a lone cot that had been shoved up against the far wall and out of the way of any foot traffic that could possibly pass through the clinic.

"Hawke. I am not reading to these children." The Elf argued again, glaring in the direction of the littles currently arguing over the cookies that Leandra had baked earlier that day.

"Yes you are Fenris. You've progressed enough in your studies to effectively read a children's story. Furthermore." she pointed to a pair of young elven children. "Malikai and Ceani could use a little encouragement in their studies. Not many of the city elves in Kirkwall complete even the most basic levels of their educations. I feel as though having a role model that they could look up to would be beneficial to them."

"Then have Oriana read to them." grumped the ex-slave. "She seems to enjoy being around children."

"I will ask her to read to them in time. But I don't think she is ready yet. When she can understand that I am requesting-not requiring-her to come down to the clinic once a week and read to these children then I will."

"This isn't some kind of ploy to bring me around to the idea of settling down and having a family is it?" Fenris offered Hawke a long look out of the corner of his eye.

"It is for your benefit, but that is not the reason behind this visit. I'm sure you will eventually settle down and have children after we have successfully killed Danareous, but until then I think simply getting used to being asked a million interesting questions a minute will at least prepare your mental reflexes." Hawke reached into her remaining basket and pulled out a worn leather book, small slips of paper stuck out crookedly from between the pages. "I've picked out a few stories that I know you will have no problem with. Don't be afraid to give the characters different voices once you get accustomed to reading aloud continually." Smiling widely she leaned over and kissed him softly on the cheek, causing a gentle tingling heat to wash over his body from where her lips had brushed a delicate trail of lyrium.

"Be nice Fenris. They really are sweet, once you get past the mischievousness." and with that, the young woman began walking into the back of the clinic, a large grin covering her face from ear to ear.

And then there were twelve attentive eyes focused on him, shifting in their seats with either nervousness or pent up energy, he didn't care which it happened to be, both possibilities terrified him just as equally.

"Are you a friend of the Lady?" asked the young elven girl whose name he assumed was Ceani.

"Er... yes. I'm a friend of the Lady." he replied cautiously making his way over to the cot and slowly sitting down, unnerved by the way some of the children scooted closer to his legs and knees, pressing against him. Ignoring the discomfort of having so many people pressing so close to him he opened the book and began scanning the contents of the marked pages.

"Ooooh!" coo-ed one of the young human females. "Your markings are so pretty! Did The Maker paint you?" He felt and invisible something stick in his throat and hoped the heat in his cheeks wasn't visible.

"No. A Mage 'painted' me." he replied, sticking a little sass into his voice.

"Mommy says the afterlife is blue like the sky, so that must mean blue is the color of The Maker." continued the girl. "That must mean you have his blessing. You're lucky Mr. Elf." Fenris bit his tongue to refrain from making a comment about "the maker's contempt," this child didn't deserve to have her illusions of a sweet and innocent world shattered before they needed to be.

"Just let him read Melli." Snapped one of the older boys. Thanking some greater power for the straightforwardness of his own gender, Fenris opened finally settled on a story and began to read.

**~4~**

"This would be so much easier with a bigger mortar... and possibly a hammer." Grumbled the mage under his breath as he mashed a small plant into oblivion, pushing away the subtle tendril licking at the back of his mind telling him that living in poverty and working diligently was a noble endeavor of the spirit. "Oh sod off. I've had enough of your thoughts today." He snapped.

"Strange, seeing as how this is the first you shall hear of them." the mage jerked at the familiar voice, mortar flying out of his hands and rolling across the dirty floor. He turned slowly to see the woman, dressed in a pale blue dress, small leather boots peeking out below the dust coated hem. The entire picture would have been soft if not for the leather vest pulled tightly across her bosom and ending just above the curve of her hips. "It is just a vest Anders, and I know for a fact that you have seen breasts in greater detail than this outfit is revealing."

Ears burning, he bent over and scooped up the previously forgotten mortar and turned his attention back to the the desk before him.

"You shouldn't be here Hawke." the words, which he meant to come out as calm and collected, were in truth more of a growl of warning, he could almost _feel_ her rolling her eyes before she placed a basket beside him on the desk before resting her hands on his feathered pauldrons.

"Don't worry, Fenris accompanied me today." She replied absently. "And why should I not be? Was the kiss so terrible that we cannot remain in each-others company?" she tugged at one of the bedraggled feathers absently before continuing. "I can understand why you are upset over what happened. But you didn't hurt me Anders, you simply kissed me."

The apostate swore, pulling away from her and quickly moving to the other side of the room. The woman made no protest, and the fact that she waited until he had moved completely behind her before looking over her shoulder at him did nothing but stroke his temper.

"Do you fear _nothing_?" He growled. "I attacked you once, and now you willingly give me your back?" Hawke gave no reply, simply turned her attention back to the window and shrugged. Exasperated he came up behind her and placed his fingers on either side of her neck, trying to ignore the feather-light tickle of her hair against his hands or the soft skin beneath his fingertips. He could feel that foreign something scrabbling in the back of his mind, but this time he was prepared for it, shoving the dark feelings into the recesses of his brain and focusing clear-headedly on the woman before him. "I could easily destroy you with magic in a possessed fit of rage."

"_Tch_." she replied, turning to face him, eyes boring into his soul. "You could kill me just as easily with your bare hands, for a mage you are surprisingly fit." She reached out and poked him hard in the chest.

"I fear plenty of things. I fear the impending revolts against the Qunari, I fear another outbreak of disease in Darktown, and I fear my trade caravans being attacked. I have not-nor will I ever-fear you." She couldn't have surprised him any less if she had grown four additional heads. "I understand you, and I respect Justice. But this new part of you that is arising is foreign to the both of us. I came here tonight not to goad you into another argument, but to let you know you have my understanding and continued support." the mage let out an almost hysterical laugh.

"Support me? How could you support me? How can you willingly allow yourself to be around me?" he swore, paced, and finally stopped before her again, looking into her eyes. "I'm more demon than man, don't you know what that means?"

"Don't be obtuse Anders, of course I know what that means." she sighed and plucked at the blue silk of her dress before locking her eyes back with his. "I see who you are, and I feel what you are beneath the surface. I trust you when you are you and when you are more Justice than yourself, and whatever this new part of you that is surfacing is... I doubt it would hurt me either." the mage turned away, attempting to swallow around a knot that had formed in the back of his throat, not fighting the arms that encircled his waist and closing his eyes against the pressure of her cheek resting against his pauldrons.

"I love you Anders." she murmured into the bedraggled feathers, causing his eyes to fly open and stare at nothing as a strange mixture of ice and heat swirled in his belly. "Every part of me cries out for you, when I see you in pain I feel a part of myself slowly withering, and despite my original resolve to let you come to me when you decided you needed help I can't watch you do this to yourself any longer." he could almost hear the tears in her voice. "Don't pull away from me, please." she begged.

Makers breath it killed him to hear her sound so fragile. Slowly he placed one of his large calloused hands over her delicate small ones, linking his index finger around hers.

"I won't leave Hawke." he said finally, staring down at the hand he gently cradled in his own. "But I need time. I have to be sure that I won't hurt you; I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I ever hurt you in a fit of possessed insanity."

He felt her nod reluctantly against his shoulder, nuzzling her face into the feathers as her fingers tightened against his own. Maker how he ached to allow himself to hold her tightly and never release her, but he couldn't trust his resolve to hold until he knew exactly what he was dealing with. When she finally pulled away from him he honestly couldn't tell if he was more relieved at the distance or reluctant to let her go.

"There were some other things that I wanted to discuss with you." She began, sitting on the edge of his cot and straightening her skirts around her knees. "I've located an individual who may be able to help you with your… situation." Perturbed the Anders crossed his arms and stared at her, and her nervous shifting did not help his state of mind.

"Meaning what Hawke." The steeliness of his tone caused her expression to become something stuck between 'please don't be angry with me' and 'don't you dare get pissy with me at this particular moment'.

"I assumed when you first told me about Justice that you weren't the first person to merge with a spirit. As it turns out my original hunch was indeed correct. I found a woman who is willing to come and speak with you regarding your situation. I have every assurance that the meeting will be kept completely confidential and you have nothing to fear by meeting her." She finally managed to meet his eyes. "I only need to send her confirmation that you are willing to meet. I think you might have a lot to gain by discussing everything with her."

"You… told someone about Justice?" he wasn't quite able to keep the betrayal out of his voice as he stared down at the woman, the fact that the spirit was scrabbling at the inside of his head wasn't helping him either, nor was the dark tendril rolling out in his mind like a deadly wave.

"I gave no specifics. I merely asked a friend for guidance. They aren't even aware of who I am requesting the information for. You have no accountability in this situation, but I am leaving the final decision as to how to proceed up to you."

Hope and nerves, love and acceptance. He could almost taste the emotions rolling off the young woman as she spoke to him.

"I'll give it some thought." It was the most he could offer, and her responding smile told him that was all she ever really hoped or expected of him.

Finally acting as though she remembered where she was Hawke stood up and peeked out the small curtain and into the main area of the clinic.

"I suppose I should get out there before Fenris starts dissecting the children." She replied with obvious amusement. The mage immediately moved to her side and looked out the curtain with her.

"Is that why you brought Fenris here?" he asked incredulously, watching the surly elf interacting with the children was certainly an interesting sight.

"Well that and the fact that I thought you would feel more at ease if I brought someone who would readily decapitate you if you became unreasonable." She shrugged as she watched the ex-slave give a child who had interrupted him a look that could easily be misconstrued as a desire to whack him upside the head with the book he was holding.

Love and acceptance. He _had_ felt more at ease knowing the elf was within screaming distance, knowing that had been the deciding factor in Hawke bringing Fenris with her on this particular trip when he was feeling so terribly fragile made him even more aware of the woman beside him. She had understood what he needed even when he himself hadn't realized it.

"If you honestly think that it is for the best, I'll meet with this woman." He said softly. It was really the only thing he had to offer her as a thank you for all of her understanding.

"I'll send the letters tomorrow." Hawke replied with a smile, reaching out and touching his hand gently.

"For the last time! NO! I will not do 'the scary voice'!" Boomed Fenris from the front room.

"Oh dear." Hawke hastily made her way out into the front, an amused Anders quick at her heels, trying his best not to laugh.

**Authors Note: **Hey everybody! Sorry this update took so long, I was horribly unmotivated. This chapter will be up on the website () within about five minutes of being posted to .

I want to thank all of the people who have been reviewing here on the site. I adore you all. I want to remind everyone that you can always poke me on Twitter (Username: Alceriniel) or contact me through my website to keep me motivated with the story. I refuse to respond to people via the review system because I personally feel that is cheating and 'pads' my overall review count.

I do want to say that even if it takes a great deal of time to upload a new chapter, I haven't abandoned the story, I'm so incredibly focused mentally on the second story arc that it is hard to come back to the first half. But I must persevere! *chants* Stay strong, Stay Strong!


	5. Chapter 5 Complete

**Chapter Five**

It wasn't easy being old. The crackling bones, and the ease at which tiredness seemed to creep up on you during your twilight years. Despite being restlessly active, the need for a nap or to sit quietly never sat particularly well with the elderly mage who was currently occupying the seat across from the empty Knight Captain's desk, arms crossed and openly displaying her displeasure at being left waiting for this scheduled meeting. Templar or no, showing up late for an appointment was blatant rudeness in her opinion.

Setting her annoyance aside-another irritable trademark of the elderly, she certainly didn't have the time or patience for nonsense as much as she used to-she took in her surroundings for the umpteenth time in the past ten minutes.

The office was not especially lavish, but it held a certain tidiness that the woman presumed was due more to obsessive compulsion than an actual desire to have things in order. Large leather tomes lined the shelves that had been built into the study wall, if the spines were any indication, they were all either tomes on Chantry doctrine or theological law, and most-if not all-appeared to have been written by Orlisean authors.

There was only one painting, which hung behind the desk which she was currently sitting in front of, which depicted in excruciating detail the burning of Andraste, Tevinter mages standing the pyre with hands outstretched towards the sky, apparently reveling in the sacrifice of the heretic barbarian bride. Disgusted, the woman averted her eyes from the gruesome piece of artwork and intently focused on memorizing the grain of the desk as she waited.

It was several more minutes before the Knight Commander finally made her entrance, and the old woman idly wondered if the Commander ever removed her red coil even indoors, but set the thought aside as the younger woman took her seat at the desk.

"I see you arrived here on time. Good for you." the commander opened up the file before her and scanned its contents. "What business do you have here in Kirkwall mage?"

Not even an apology? Templars could certainly be crass or rude, but at least the ones at the Ferelden circle maintained a mask of civility when speaking to the mages. Well, two could play at that game, and she certainly wasn't going to waste her good manners on someone who obviously had never learned any of their own.

"As you can see from the copies of the documents I handed your secretary, I have no need to explain my business to you." replied the mage, leaning back in her chair. "My announcing my presence was an act of politeness; not a necessity, as is my keeping my lodgings at the Chantry instead of at a local tavern." when the Meredith only glared the old woman simply smiled and continued. "If you think my lodgings are inadequate, I suggest you take the matter up with the Grand Cleric Elthina, who arranged them with me in the first place."

"Be that as it may, you will be required to have a Templar escort if you are to go gallivanting around my city." sneered the Commander. "Someone of your... political importance must be kept safe no matter the cost."

"While I appreciate your desire to ensure my safety, I can handle myself quite well enough, so I must refuse your offer of an escort." The old mage smiled, pushing her gray hair back behind her ear. "I'm sure those who receive my reports would not like to hear that their ambassador was being mistreated while she waits for her boat to return home, don't you think so? Especially since both you and I know you were contacted regarding this delicate situation before I began my journey here from Tevinter."

The Knight Commander simply glared as the elderly mage stood up and took her leave without waiting for permission.

"I shall remember this meeting mage." called the commander as the elderly woman closed the door behind her, making her way to have a few words with the First Enchanter Orsino before she took her final leave of this prison.

_Nor will I._ Thought the woman, looking over her shoulder at the doorway as she walked down the hall. _Nor will I._

Oh yes, this particular visit was shaping up to be quite interesting indeed.

**~2~**

* * *

"Darling, are you sure you should be going out tonight? You've been looking peaky these past few days, perhaps you should rest." Hawke rolled her eyes as she fastened the corset of her dress into place.

"I'm fine mother, it is just a spring chill." True she had been coughing lately, and the disaster that had taken place at the Lowtown with the insane elf who seemed to be hell-bent on poisoning everyone to death probably didn't help matters. But she had hardly inhaled any of the gas, and nobody else who had gone with her was sick, so while she had been feeling a bit under the weather, it wasn't anything to be particularly concerned about. It was more likely due to stress and the late nights she had been keeping.

"I promise I'll only stay for the dinner and come back home early." She finally relinquished. It wasn't like she had any particular interest in this social gathering anyway. "I'll get some extra sleep and I'll stay curled up in bed tomorrow and read for awhile, and I promise not to get snappy with Bodahn if he fusses over me." But Leandra wasn't convinced.

"I still think you should go visit Serah Anders and ask his opinion. Perhaps I'll ask him if I could check up on you tonight after you return, just to be sure." Hawke rolled her eyes and adjusted her belt.

"Whatever you feel is best Mother. But I have to go, I'm already late." She blew a kiss at her mother before taking the light coat that Bodahn was holding out for her.

"Just in case you feel cold Messere." he called after her before going about whatever business he needed to attend to.

The sun had already begun to set, and the air felt sharp in her lungs. Coughing once Hawke made her way the few blocks to the estate where the small party was taking place.

At the very least the food would make her feel better.

It wasn't until dinner was halfway over that she knew that something had gone terribly wrong. It felt as though something or someone had reached into her chest and had iron fisted grip around her lungs.

"Messere, are you okay?" the hostess made her way to her seat, a look of worry coloring her face. "You're so pale!" When the young woman began to swoon, falling from her chair the hostess cried hysterically, "Beale get the cart! We must take Serah Hawke home immediately and call a doctor to her estate!"

Hawke tried to muster up the energy to protest, but the best she could muster in the form of a reply was a pathetic mewling groan as the nobles around her bundled her into the coach, servants already busting off to locate the nearest doctor.

"What is it? Could it be the plague again?" murmured voices around her, but they were caught in a continuous swirl that overtook her mind like a tidal wave, and caught in the middle of the torrent she slowly began to succumb to the desirable peace of unconsciousness.

Between the sister-like states of awake and sleep, where the lines of reality were so hopelessly blurred she could no more feel her body than the arms wrapped tightly around her to keep her from jostling during her tumultuous trip, transporting her to places unknown to her fever-blurred mind, Hawke could feel herself being held tightly by unseen arms.

* * *

Half asleep, half fever dream, she saw two chips of ice staring at her, their gaze flowing around her in an almost electric dance that shivered along her body yet held her tightly and protectively. But within their desperate desire to shield her she could also feel a cold, brewing rage growing with herself located in the eye of the storm, it was an anger that she never knew could exist, it went beyond hot fury, beyond the desire to reach out and tear an enemy from limb to limb, this feeling-this _being_ would destroy everything in its wake without hesitation if it felt that it's prize was threatened.

_Stay with me._ Crooned a voice in the back of her mind, a beautiful angelic sound that washed through her body and spirit, wrapping itself around the tenuous line that kept her soul bound to flesh.

_Who are you? _She thought desperately, mentally reaching out for the something just beyond her grasp, and crying out when it shied away from her. _Don't leave me._ She begged.

_We will not leave you._ _But you must rest, you must save your strength human._ It growled softly as she felt a tendril of awareness probe her tattered body, pressing into her chest. _We will keep you safe, and we will sustain you until those who will help you arrive._

Satisfied with the answer yet unsure exactly why, Hawke relaxed her mind and let the beings take quiet stock of her without complaint or defiance, and let herself be coaxed into a deep dreamless sleep.

**~3~**

* * *

If this continued much longer the tiny scraps he had chocked down for dinner would become nothing more than a foul smell in the toilet. The grasping scrabbling inside of his head felt as though his mind was being cloven into small pebbles.

He couldn't make the pain go away, not with healing magic or even a potent restorative brew that was the de-facto standard in his arsenal for dealing with migraines. The headache had been steadily increasing since that morning, gnawing at his mind and making him completely unable to concentrate on any task he attempted to set before himself.

Justice had said nothing about their current situation-in fact he had remained relatively quite regarding their physical only response he could receive from the spirit was a growing sense of urgency and a desire to move, but to where the mage couldn't fathom.

It was around the time he had attempted to contact Justice-again-that Leandra burst into his clinic, which was thankfully empty save the few volunteers who were busy cleaning the small space.

"Anders!" the woman gasped, still dressed in her finery, face white as a statue of Andraste. "You have to help me, She-my daughter-she collapsed." choked sobs wracked her the elder woman's thin body. "She is barely breathing! Nobody is sure whats wrong!"

Forgetting the pain in his head the mage rushed the woman, grabbing her shoulders and fighting the urge to shake her.

"Where is she?" he asked hurriedly, the question more of a growl than a soothing attempt to calm a terrified mother.

"In her room. She was attending a party and collapsed, the family brought her back home."

A million things rushed through his mind, poison being itself to the forefront. Without even realizing his feet were moving he had already bolted towards the entrance to the cellar, and if he didn't know any better he would have sworn that every step closer he came to Hawke's bedroom caused his headache to ease.

When he finally burst through the door and saw her laid out on the bed he realized for the first time that there were far greater fears in this world than one's own personal demise. Slowly, carefully he maneuvered himself to her side, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest against the bedsheets, her breath coming out an a slow rasp through her chapped lips.

He reached a hand out slowly, a gentle blue light emanating from his fingertips as he rested his hand on her bosom, probing for the cause of her ailment.

The complexity of the damage was absolutely staggering. The fact that Hawke wasn't already dead spoke volumes about the strength of the woman laying before him.

Veins and arteries were on the verge of collapsing, her heart was pumping poisoned blood through her body, and her lungs...

"Blessed Andraste." Anders' gasped. They were in tatters. Whatever poison had been coursing through her veins had been slowly shredding the tissues of her lungs, leading to a growing infection. "You stupid woman." He growled. "Why didn't you come to me when you first knew something was wrong?"

The mage closed his eyes against his growing fear and remembered his instructor's lecture about healing when there were multiple ailments to deal with.

_"Take each step one at a time. Start at the basics. What is causing all of the trouble with the patient first and foremost? There is no point in healing a person's throat when the damage is being caused by vomiting if you haven't settled the patent's stomach." _

Blood first. He had to purge the poison from her blood before he had any hope of curing the rest of the damage she was suffering from.

His mind set in it's resolve. Anders began preparing the area for his work, and screaming for Bodahn to run for the necessary supplies.

**~4~**

* * *

It was so familiar it was almost eerie. The pressure of stone against her hip, the ache of knowing you've done something incredibly stupid, and the swirling headache that informed you that whatever idiocy you had gotten yourself into was somehow related alcohol consumption.

But she was dead. Surely you couldn't feel pain when you were dead.

Groaning, Hawke attempted to push herself up into a sitting position. The hard stone slab that she was laying on wasn't particularly comfortable, nor was the nagging suspicion that her every move was being watched.

"She wakes." Came an amused familiar voice. It would have been comforting if it hadn't felt like it was booming at her from every direction.

"Justice?" She groaned. "What are you doing here? Am I in the Fade?" reaching up to grab her arms, she noticed that she wasn't clothed and quickly pulled her knees up to cover her nakedness.

"Not the Fade. We would not take you there without your consent. Instead we helped you retreat further within yourself, where the pain would not consume you." The spirit paused for a moment. "And so you could deal with another matter."

"You possessed me?" she cried incredulously, looking around in every direction. "Where are you?"

"We did not posses you, we simply linked our mine with yours, It is more of an advanced awareness of one another than an actual intrusion of your mind." The spirit paused again. "I can show myself to you, but it might be a bit unsettling."

"I'll take my chances." Hawke replied, adding a bit of snap into her voice and instantly regretting it when a sharp pain dug into her lungs.

He appeared at first as a wisp that slowly began to take shape. A body, then armor began to cloak the translucent skin, what originally began as something blue and mystical slowly began to darken as if it was being slowly taken over by a dark and dangerous taint.

"This is what I am... or rather what I am becoming." The spirit began slowly, blue chips that she assumed were his eyes burning beyond the helmet. "You are aware of the mage Anders' internal struggle against himself. A fight that he is slowly losing."

"I thought the fight was to wrestle control over you, to keep you from overtaking his mortal form."

"Then you misunderstand." The spirit spoke. "Alone I am but a passing stream of subconscious, I do not move to the forefront of Anders' mind unless beckoned to do so. This... other half of my existence is brought forth during times of great duress of emotional pain. It's presence is unwelcome in the shared space that Anders' has allowed me exist in."

"Then what part of you is the one that takes over Anders' and makes him fear becoming close to me. Or is it all of you that denies him the right to be with the person he loves?" Hawke asked bitterly.

"Make no mistake. Anders' infatuation with you does irk us, his affection for you takes his thoughts away from the task at hand. But we would not deny our host the opportunity to explore his own feelings and emotions, to do so would make us tyrants. Anders' decision to remain apart from you is his own choice, and in all things regarding you Hawke, he keeps his own council."

Hard to argue when the truth came straight from the Spirit's mouth. As much as she loathed to admit it to herself, she knew Justice was no liar. If this paragon of fairness and right told her a fact she would simply have to believe it, no matter how terribly the truth tore at her heart.

"But we are not here to discuss your relationship with our host." Continued the spirit. "We are here to discuss _that_." Slowly, deliberately, the spirit raised one armored hand to point at the woman's chest, and when she looked down Hawke could barely stifle a choked scream of shock.

Her chest was ravaged, large bloody pieces of flesh hung from the exposed bone, and a thick seeping pus oozed out from under what skin remained.

"What is it." She cried, raising her hands to cover her tattered flesh, but unable to bring her hands to press against it. "How did this happen?"

"It is a poison. But it is more venomous and potent than even the deadliest assassin can concoct. You have poisoned your own soul Serah, and if you wish to live, we must purge it from you, or I am afraid you will never be able to return to the waking world."

* * *

She wasn't used to such gatherings. Generally when everyone managed to meet up it was at the Hanged Man, or even at Anders' clinic, as far as she was aware there had never been a time where everyone had come together at Hawke's estate, but from what she understood the situation was quite dire, and nobody wanted to be far away in case they were needed at a moment's notice.

Despite the fact that everyone was here, nobody was interested in talking. Not even Varric, who had come by her home at the Alienage to bring her to the estate. From what she understood Hawke was seriously ill, but if Mr. Anders' was with her she would be fine wouldn't she? No keeper she had ever come in contact with had such a firm grasp of the healing arts as he did.

Scanning the room Merrill let out a sigh before returning her gaze to the top of the staircase. What would happen if Hawke were to die? Would Varric still make sure she was safe in her home? Would Aveline still stop by once or twice a week to check up on her and make sure her letters were delivered to the Dalish camp? Would Isabella continue to spend time with her at the Tavern? Everyone here would never have met or come together if not for Hawke, if something were to happen would they all still interact with one another? They were the closest thing that she had to family now. The thought of being without them in Kirkwall was horrifying.

The young elf was so enraptured with her own line of thought she hadn't realized that someone had entered the house until Orana announced the hooded woman's presence.

"There is a Mistress Wynne here, she says she was contacted to help with Messere Hawke." announced the young housekeeper.

"No child. That is not entirely accurate." Sighing the elderly woman removed her hood, thin lips curled into a slight understanding smile. "I was originally contacted to meet with Messere Hawke, but when a young noble lad came screaming into the chantry that a young noble woman was dying and that a priest and healer were needed I volunteered my services to assist her. When I found out _who _the young woman was, I decided that in order to keep my aforementioned appointment I best hurry my old bones along."

Fenris growled and began to make a comment regarding mages, but Isabella managed to shove her fist into his side before the words ever left his mouth.

"Wynne? _The Wynne_? Who assisted the Hero of Ferelden against the blight?" Varric stammered and looked upon the elderly mage in awe.

"I think she prefers to go by Lady Theirin when she is not being addressed formally." Replied the woman with a good natured laugh. "The poor dear has so many titles that it is hard to keep up with all of them."

"But what in Andraste's name are you doing in Kirkwall?" Varric finally demanded, taking a step forward.

"Like I said, I was asked to meet Messere Hawke as per her request. I recently finished some business in Tevinter and agreed to meet with her before boarding my ship to return home." looking over at Fenris' growling form she returned her gaze back to the dwarf unperturbed. "If she is indeed gravely ill I think I should be shown to her room, I know more than a little about healing magic and if I could be of some use I would be more than happy to offer my services."

"You will not take one step-" began Fenris before Isabella punched in the side again.

"Shut up will you." snapped the pirate as she shoved the elf into the adjoining study and closed the door behind them.

"Mr. Anders is currently upstairs with Hawke." began Merrill, taking a step towards the woman. "We haven't heard anything from him since we all arrived. But Mr. Bodahn tells us he is making progress whenever he has to run supplies in and out of the room and tells us not to worry." Which she thought meant that there _was_ reason to worry, and the elven mage could almost swear she saw a flicker of recognition cross the older woman's face.

"You are Dailish are you not my dear?" The woman asked quietly. "And I can feel the aura of magic in you. Why are you not upstairs helping your friend?" Merrill's cheeks burned hot against her skin.

"Mr. Anders... does not approve of me. If he needs me he knows that I am here to help, but until then I think I would only cause him anger or be a distraction." the elderly woman rested her hand on the elf's shoulder.

"If we need you I will call for you. Be ready in just in case." and without another word the woman made her way up the steps and spoke softly with Leandra before entering the bedroom that had so recently turned into a sickroom.

* * *

"What do you mean it is a poison of the soul?" Hawke gasped against the pain crushing against her chest.

"All of your hate, your rage, and the guilt you have carried inside of you and harmed yourself with for all of these years has crippled you. Now it is fighting against your very being in an attempt to claim control over you. If you don't expel it now it will consume you. You will then only be a shadow of who and what you really are, and not only your dreams, but also your future will be torn away from you in the process."

"And why do you care about my dreams or my future." She spat at the spirit. "What do otherworldly beings care about my person?"

"We care because you have a destiny to fulfill, there are things beyond the scope of Kirkwall, and even beyond the borders of the Free Marshes and even the waking realm that depend upon your survival this night. You cannot die Hawke." the spirit added almost sadly. "Your death would put into effect a chain of events that will cause the deaths of countless innocents, there is no Justice in this."

"What do you mean?" she pressed, doubling over herself as another wave of pain encircled her.

"I cannot say to you specifically. But there are ripples in the Black City, and all who walk the Fade are aware of great change coming, and you are one of the catalysts for this change." Blue chips of ice stared into her soul before he continued. "Do you wish my assistance or not?"

"Tell me what to do." Hawke finally replied.

"That festering in your chest is a physical representation of your hatred and self loathing, you must forgive yourself for those you could not save, for those whom you have carried a burden for being unable to help. Tell me their names."

Unable to look the spirit in the eye, Hawke closed her eyes and for a split second, could see a young boy with dark hair and blue eyes, glaring at her over the hilt of a wooden sparring stick.

"Carver. I couldn't save Carver." she gasped as her chest burned, and a sickly yellow liquid spilled out from her ripped flesh and stained the stone slab beneath her. "He was my younger brother and I couldn't protect him from something as insignificant as a troll."

"He made a mistake, he rushed an enemy without thinking. That is not your fault."

"He was my little brother. I taught him how to fight. I should have been able to stop him." Choking out a sob, Hawke ran a hand over her eyes.

"But the fault was his own. You are not responsible for the actions of others. You have carried this pain for long enough, forgive yourself and let him go. Let his spirit rest without your regrets. Mourn his loss and continue to love him, but this self hatred is nothing he would wish upon you."

Knowing that the spirit spoke the truth, Hawke took a deep breath and sighed out her guilt, and the pain in her chest eased slightly.

"Another name." spoke the spirit, and Hawke closed her eyes again, and before she could stop herself she started spilling out more names. Bethany and her regrets for not protecting her sister from the Circle of Magi; Fenris and her inability to help him work through his pain and hatred; Merrill and being unable to help her sweet and caring friend; her father and being unable to find a proper healer to save him; Being unable to properly care for her mother until recently and causing her pain by being unable to protect her siblings.

With each name she spoke more putrid liquid spilled out from her chest, releasing more and more pain from her heart as she purged the wounds of her soul.

"The wound is almost clean." Spoke the spirit with soft understanding. "But you are not yet done."

* * *

_I suppose some things never change_. Wynne thought to herself with a smile as she looked upon her old protege standing over the young woman on the bed, so focused on the task at hand that he didn't even realize she had entered the room.

"Anders." the old mage called fondly. "I had thought we wouldn't meet again... at least not without you being dragged back into the circle in shackles." Startled at the familiar voice Anders turned to look at the woman, his face haggard and pinched.

"If you are here to escort me back I'm afraid you will have to wait until I'm done here. I don't have the time to fool with Templars and false sincerity for my well being." he turned back to the woman before him. "There are far more precious things at stake than dragging off another worthless mage to the tower."

"I'm not here to return you to the circle my dear." Wynne said as she made her way to the other side of the bed, ignoring the other mage's growl as she scanned the woman's body with her hands. "I'm here to help the friend of a friend." Wynne's eyes narrowed as she examined the damage. "You can't access her lungs, there is some type of barrier spell surrounding them."

"_I know._" Growled Anders as his hands traveled along Hawke's arms and abdomen working to repair collapsing veins as quickly as he could. "I can't get past it."

Confused, Wynne sent out a delicate probe towards the shield to ascertain exactly what it was and was met with a very strong felling of 'stay away' but she was still able to discern that while the damage was not being repaired, the lungs were still functioning and the protective coat around them was helping the young woman breathe.

"What caused the barrier Anders. This isn't your magic." the older mage asked peevishly as she began to focus her magical talents on the other side of the woman's battered body.

"I don't know." he growled, eyes never leaving Hawke's body as he worked. "But I'll deal with that problem once I've made sure the organs that are failing have been repaired."

_You know you brat._ Wynne thought to herself as she started returning the circulatory system to rights.

"I know you are upset about the situation. Just keep in mind that you need to leave your personal feelings at the door. Irritation or anger has no business in a sickroom, you will do nothing more than get in your own way, furthermore your anger will work counterproductively to the healing." Wynne said in her best stern-teacher-to-erring-student tone of voice, while the comment was meant to be assistive it only caused whatever restraint Anders had on his temper to finally snap.

"How can you expect me to not be upset!" He yelled at his former teacher. "She is _dying_."

"She isn't dying, silly child." Wynne scolded, not bothering to look up at the man glaring daggers at her. "By all rights she should have already died. But the simple fact of the matter is that with the exception of her lungs and re-directing this blood flow she will be absolutely fine in a few days time. Once the rest of this damage is repaired we can figure out how to penetrate the shield around her lungs and use what remaining tissue is left of the healthy tissue to regrow more."

"You can't regrow tissue with magic." Anders growled, returning his attention to the task at hand, eyebrows furrowed.

"Perhaps if you had spent more time in lessons than running away from them then you might have learned the technique. It is a difficult and time consuming process, and generally takes a great deal of magic to perform. But it is entirely possible as long as there is healthy tissue remaining to work with." Anders raised an eyebrow at the woman and said nothing more on the subject. Despite Wynne's bossy attitude and tendency to give advice where no advice was needed-or wanted-he had never known her as one to lie.

Anders returned his attention to the woman beneath his hands and desperately prayed that she would live to see him proved wrong.

* * *

Hawke stared down at her chest that was slowly mending itself as she slowly purged her soul of all of her guilt and self hatred. The wound was almost clean now, and she could breathe without pain. But there was still something trapped inside of her chest and she couldn't force it out.

"I don't know who the last name is." she finally spoke to the spirit standing over her. "I've listed everyone that I can think of."

"Then I will tell you." Justice bent before her sitting figure on the stone alter, blue eyes staring into her tired ones. "You have to forgive yourself. That is the last step." Hawke sputtered at the suggestion.

"I don't hate myself!" She recoiled, placing a hand over her chest as if to protect it, Justice reached up and tenderly removed her hand from the wound.

"Hate is perhaps to strong a word. But you do deny who and what you are. You fight against your own past which has shaped you into the woman you are now." Justice reached up slowly and pressed his spectral hand against her chest. "You can not deny your past, but you have to accept that it is over, done. Let the pain go and accept yourself."

In a rush she could see her life from her childhood to her years in Kirkwall flash through her mind. A young girl leaving behind friends to constantly move in order to protect her father and younger sister. A girl who finally decided that there was no real point in making friends with other children because they were so temporary and that it hurt too much to lose them and forcing herself into a lonely solitude full of bitterness and regret.

A child who played with swords and knives because she had been told since birth that it was her duty and responsibility to protect the family.

A 15 year old adolescent who murdered a Templar she suspected was stiffing around for her younger sister and discovering a locket containing portraits of the man's wife and child's inside and realizing that she was responsible for causing a child to grow up fatherless.

A teenager forced into hard labor in taverns and back alleys to raise enough money to feed her family and bribe people not to reveal her apostate sister.

An adult being blamed by her mother for her younger brother's death.

A woman being forced to work for a year with smugglers in order to gain enough money to get her mother into Kirkwall.

She had always convinced herself that while her life had been difficult, it could have been far worse, that she still had a much better life than the vast majority of people in Thedas, and had always told herself that feeling sorry about her lot in life would never change anything.

"I have been watching humans for quite some time. The biggest misconception you seem to have about one another is that there is a vast distance between each of you." He slowly reached into her chest and tugged hard, causing Hawke to gasp sharply. When he removed his armored hand a large black festering lump sat in his palm.

"I would not begin to say I understand the minds of your kind. They are a changing and fluid thing." he squeezed his hand tightly and a flash of light reduced the lump to a fine ash. "But you are a strong and loving woman Hawke. I think that is why you carry the burdens you carry, but you are going to have to accept the fact that humans have flaws. You can not expect yourself to be perfect. You are going to have to accept the fact that you will make many mistakes in your life. But you must learn to use them as an opportunity to grow and learn, and not let these mistakes cripple you."

Hawke raised a hand to her face and was almost surprised when she found a small wet sheen of tears staining her cheeks. She couldn't remember the last time she had ever allowed herself to cry.

"Thank you Justice." She said softly, reaching out and touching the side of the spirit's helmet. "For everything."

"We do what we must." Slowly he helped the woman recline back on the stone slab. She was completely spent from the emotional and spiritual purge of her soul, he rested a hand over her chest and she noticed another flash of light.

"What was that?" She asked softly, not really caring.

"I was simply removing a protective film from your lungs. Do not worry, the rest will be healed in a moment's time. But you must rest now and gather your strength... and deal with the consequences of scaring so many of your friends." Hawke smiled sheepishly.

"I'm going to get yelled at again aren't I?"

"Most certainly. It is my assumption that they only do that because they care about you." Justice sat beside her legs and looked at her.

"I know. That's why I put up with it. I like to be reminded that despite the fact that I can slay an Ogre with a pair of daggers and be regarded as some kind of hero that there are people who still see me as "Just Hawke" and will treat me like any other person that they care about."

"It is important to remember that you are simply human and not let pride take control over your heart." Justice paused for a moment before reaching out and touching her hand. "I will tell you one more thing before I return you to yourself. The mage Anders does love you, but he is trying to protect you. I do not think he can keep his feelings at bay much longer. If you remain patient with him, I strongly believe that he will eventually come to you and be your mate."

"Why are you telling me this?" Hawke asked softly, entwining her fingers with Justice's and making the conscious effort not to chide Justice for his choice of words.

"Anders and I are one now. This has brought about many changes in my being. Some for the worse... some I am quite fond of... but..." Justice started to trail off.

"Please don't hide anything from me." She asked softly, attempting to pull herself into a sitting position before being gently pressed back down against the stone by Justice's strong hands.

"He is starting to realize that he loves you with everything in him, and that is what scares him... the other part of our being... he was the one who originally established the connection with your mind in an effort to save you. You must protect yourself Hawke. If something were to happen to you the consequences of Vengence's rage would be catastrophic."

"I know that." She said softly, closing her eyes and re-wrapping her fingers with Justice's as she began to succumb to her body's desperate desire for a dreamless sleep. "I've always known that about him. Don't worry. I won't allow Anders' to lose himself."

The spirit sat beside the woman as he waited for her to ascend back to her own mind instead of this shared space, and for the first time since he had entered into the mortal world he felt the delightful thrill of knowing that he had done something completely and totally _good_.

Beneath his helmet the spirit smiled as he sat patiently as he slowly began the gentle ascension from Hawke's sleeping mind and back to the comfortable familiarity of Anders'.

**~5~**

* * *

Breathing a sigh of relief Ander's slumped over on the bed and pressed his forehead against Hawke's sweat sheened cheek. She was alive, and she was whole. When Justice's barrier around her lungs had dissipated the damage looked as though it had mostly mended itself, and the rest of the healing had been a quick and mostly painless affair.

Wynne busied herself with cleaning up the area and handing soiled towels to Bodan and explaining that she would need some help cleaning up the patient so that she could be bedded down in order to finish healing on her own.

"I'm sure you know the course of action from here on in Anders." Wynne said in her bossy teacher-to-student tone. "Three cups of healing brew a day until she is feeling in tip top shape. She will probably sleep through most of tomorrow which is to be expected. If she feels up to it she may walk around the estate but it is best she not venture outside for a few days. I'll be back tomorrow to check up on her." Anders couldn't help but look at his old teacher with reverence.

"Thank you Wynne... this means more to me than you could possibly imagine." The old woman smiled softly and reached over the bed to lay a hand on the man's shoulder.

"Love for a mage is never easy my dear. Especially when that mage is an apostate. But you have a rare opportunity that many of us wouldn't even dare to hope for. I desperately hope for your sake that you do not squander it." Wynne looked down at Hawke with pride. "She is a strong one, and she has a great deal of courage. I never thought I would meet another woman with so much to offer the world."

"I didn't either." Anders said with a smile, nuzzling Hawke's cheek. Wynne pursed her lips briefly.

"Did you ever feel the same way about the Warden Commander?" she asked softly as she brushed a stray hair away from her face.

"I thought I did at one point. I sometimes felt that I should have. She saved me from the Templar's and a certain execution. She gave me a rare opportunity to have a life outside of the circle. But being a Grey Warden to me was another kind of cage, and if given the choice between being an apostate or being a Grey Warden I would have chosen the former." Anders sat up and looked at Wynne. "I never fit at the circle like you did Wynne."

"Not many do. I respect that many people feel that mages should be feared, just like I respect the fact that many people fear darkspawn. I always assumed that being a good mage would help alleviate the fears of the populace. So I chose to be an example to those who did not understand magic. Now the King of Ferelden is doing the rest."

"Is he really planning on phasing out the Circle of Magi in Ferelden?"

"And replace it with a school for mages to go to learn their craft? Yes. He is certainly trying. But it is not a change that can be made overnight, and he is facing strong opposition. Orlais calls his preferential treatment towards mages something just shy of heresy and has made it clear that if he were to abolish the circle then they would be prepared to march on Ferelden in the name of the maker. His lovely wife has been seeking help from outside sources in order to help with the cause. Which is actually one of the reasons why I was going to speak with the Lady Hawke before returning to court."

"Hawke is helping King Theirin dispose of the Circle?"

"She is doing what she can. Hawke has more political pull than the vast majority of Nobles in Kirkwall, and she has the Viscount's ear. Her words hold a great deal of weight, not to mention the fact that she originally hails from Ferelden. When you pair this with the fact that she holds the sway over several city states outside Kirkwall and her status as a hero, she probably has more power over the entire Free Marshes than any one person in this region. From what I've gathered while traversing around Kirkwall, many of the common-folk would prefer to have her sitting on the Viscount's throne as opposed to Dumar, and the people here are ready to shake off the remains of Orlesian occupation, the Kingdom of Ferelden is interested in having an ally that also views Orlais in the same light as themselves. " Wynne smiled. "But that is something you should really be discussing with your lady. That being said you need to go bathe before you settle in with her."

"What?" Anders stood and moved away from Hawke so quickly it seemed as though he might have burned himself on the woman.

"She needs to stay warm Anders. You need to go bathe and then curl up beside her to make sure her body temperature remains slightly elevated so her she does not have to work so hard to produce her own heat."

"But... I... that's not..." Anders stammered as he looked down at Hawke's prone form, her chest rising and falling softly in a gentle tempo.

"For Andraste's sake Anders she will be dressed. Now get out of here and get cleaned up while we get her bathed."

Confused and more than a little unsettled. Ander's made his way downstairs. Everyone had apparently heard the news of Hawke's recovery and met his eyes with varying levels of approval and praise, and in Fenris' case: grim acceptance that the abomination had managed to do something right for once.

Leandra busied herself with arranging guest rooms for everyone while Anders hurried off to bathe and swiftly clothed himself in a small tunic and lounge pants that Bodahn had left out for him before making his way back upstairs to Hawke's room. Wynne was in the process of arranging the fresh blankets on the bed as he made his way over to their patient.

"There you are. Now you look vaguely like someone a woman would be happy to wake up beside." Wynne tucked the covers under the mattress before making her way to the door. "Just remember to snuggle close to her, and do get some rest my dear you look absolutely drained." the old woman giggled softly as she closed the bedroom door behind her, leaving Ander's standing beside Hawke's bedside and looking longingly at the covers he was about to climb into.

_Get over it._ He mentally shoot himself before pulling back a small triangle of blankets and crawling under the sheets. _This is for warmth nothing more. _Slowly he settled down against the soft mattress and maneuvered himself around the young woman, moving her right arm over her hip so he could press his body closer to hers, and resting his chin against her shoulder.

_Maker's breath shes beautiful_. He couldn't' stop the thought from forming in his mind as he watched her eyebrows furrow and felt her fingers twitch as she dreamed. He loved her desperately, but he didn't want to force her into a life of being tied to an apostate. He couldn't live without her but he knew the best thing he could do for her was to leave.

The idea of leaving hurt him more than his fear for her if he stayed.

He squeezed his eyes shut and kissed her shoulder softly, twining his fingers with hers and caught up in his own mind that he almost didn't hear her soft call.

"Anders." came a weak little sound by his forehead. He lifted his head and looked into Hawke's shining eyes.

"You should be resting." He scolded sharply, forgetting the fact that he was currently lying in bed with the barely clothed woman.

"You're upset." her eyes scanned the room for a moment before resting on him. "Why are you in my bed?" A million thoughts raced through his mind as a way to reply to her, but somehow he figured the truth was the best answer.

"To keep you warm." He said softly. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No." she said slowly. "But... can I turn on my side? I don't like sleeping on my back so much." Anders helped her re-adjust herself so that her back was pressed firmly against his chest, very aware of what the feel of her body was doing to his.

"How are you feeling." He asked gently as he pushed a lock of hair back behind her ear before wrapping his arm back around her abdomine. "Are you in any pain?"

"No. I'm all better now." She yawned softly and slowly dozed back to sleep, griping the hand tightly in hers. "I'm whole again." she whispered.

Confused by her wording, the mage pressed his face into her hair and breathed in the scent of her before allowing himself to drift off to sleep, holding the only beacon of light in his life protectively in his arms.

The last thought that went through his mind before sleep finally claimed him was a simple word that encompassed his protective claim over the woman in his arms.

_Mine._


End file.
